yj^.  *.,i^  ^.v"; 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


Uyi     |2.5 

■^  iiii    |2.2 
2.0 


lit 

■u 


140 


I 


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— 6"  

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PhotograpMc 

Sdences 
Corporation 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Tachnical  and  BIbliooraphtc  Notat/Notas  tachniquaa  at  bibliographiquaa 


Tha 
to  t» 


Tha  Inatltuta  haa  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  baat 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturaa  of  thia 
copy  which  may  ba  bibliographically  unlqua, 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
raproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  changa 
tha  usual  mathod  of  filming,  ara  chackad  baiow. 


D 


D 


D 


D 


D 


Colourad  covars/ 
Couvartura  da  coulaur 


I      I    Covars  damagad/ 


Couvartura  andommagia 

Covars  raetorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
Couvartura  rastaurAa  at/ou  pa!!iculAa 


□   Covar  titia  missing/ 
La 


titra  da  couvartura  manqua 

iourad  maps/ 
Cartas  giographiquas  an  coulaur 

Colourad  ink  (i.a.  othar  than  biua 

Encra  da  coulaur  (i.a.  autra  qua  blaua  ou  noira) 


I      I    Colourad  maps/ 

I      I    Colourad  ink  (i.a.  othar  than  biua  or  black)/ 


I      I   Colourad  piataa  and/or  iiiuatrationa/ 


Pianchas  at/ou  iiiuatrationa  an  coulaur 


Bound  with  othar  matarial/ 
Rail*  avac  d'autraa  documants 


Tight  binding  may  causa  shadows  or  distortion 
along  intarior  margin/ 

La  re  iiura  sarr^e  paut  causar  da  i'ombra  ou  da  la 
diatortion  la  long  da  la  marga  intiriaura 

Blank  laavas  added  during  rastoration  may 
appaar  within  tha  taxt.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanchaa  ajouttea 
lore  d'una  restauration  apparaissent  dans  la  texte, 
maia,  lorsque  cela  6tait  poasibla,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  M  filmtes. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentairea  suppl4mentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  la  meilleur  exemplaira 
qu'il  lui  a  *tA  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
da  cat  exemplaira  qui  sont  paut-Atre  uniquea  du 
point  da  vue  bibliographiqua.  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mAthoda  normala  de  filmaga 
sont  indiqute  ci-dessous. 


□   Coloured  pagea/ 
Pagea  da  coulaur 


n 

D 

0 


D 
D 


Pagea  damaged/ 
Pagea  andommagiaa 

Pagea  raetorad  and/or  laminated/ 
Pagea  reatauriaa  at/ou  palliculAea 

Pagea  diacoiourad,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pagea  d^colorAas,  tachettes  ou  piqutea 

Pagea  detached/ 
Pages  dAtachies 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 


The 
poai 
of  tl 
fllml 


Orig 

bagi 

tha 

sion 

oth« 

first 

sion 

or  ill 


|~n    Quality  of  print  variaa/ 


Quality  inigala  de  I'impreaaion 

Inciudaa  aupplamentary  material/ 
Comprand  du  material  supplAmantaira 


Tha 
shall 
TINl 
whi( 

Map 
difft 
antii 
begi 
right 
requ 
metl 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  MKion  diaponibia 

Pagea  wholly  or  partially  obacurad  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  ref limed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pagea  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  una  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  M  filmAea  A  nouveau  da  fapon  A 
obtenir  la  mailleure  image  poaaibla. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  eat  filmA  au  taux  de  rMuction  indiquA  ci-deaaous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

y 

3 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


2RX 


32X 


Tha  copy  filmad  h«r«  hat  b««n  raproduead  thanks 
to  tha  ganaroaity  of: 

Univtraity  of  Victoria 


L'axampiaira  fllm4  fut  raproduit  grica  k 
g^nArotiti  da: 

University  of  Victoria 


Tha  imagas  apraaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
posaibia  conaid  iring  tha  condition  and  lagibiiity 
of  tha  originai  copy  and  in  Icaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  tpaciflcationa. 


Original  eopiaa  in  printod  papar  oovara  ara  flimad 
baginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impraa- 
tion,  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  originai  eopiaa  ara  flimad  baginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  iiluatratad  impraa* 
sion,  and  anding  on  tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  iiluatratad  imprassion. 


Las  imagas  auivantas  ont  At*  raproduitas  avac  Is 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tanu  da  la  condition  et 
da  la  nattat*  da  l'axampiaira  film*,  at  sn 
conformity  avac  las  conditions  du  contrst  da 
filmaga. 

Laa  axamplairaa  originaux  dont  la  couvartura  an 
papiar  ast  imprimAa  sont  filmis  an  commandant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  •n  tarminant  soit  par  la 
dmrnikrw  paga  qui  comporta  una  empreinta 
d'imprassion  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  salon  la  cas.  Tous  las  autras  axamplairas 
originaux  sont  fiim^s  9n  commandant  par  la 
pramlArs  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'impraasion  ou  d'illustration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darniira  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 


Tha  laat  racordad  frama  on  aach  mieroflcha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  -i>»>  (moaning  "CON- 
TINUED ").  or  tha  symbol  V  (moaning  'END"), 
whichavar  applias. 


Un  daa  symbolaa  suivants  apparaltra  sur  la 
darnlAra  imaga  da  chaqua  microficha,  salo;.  U 
cas:  la  symbols  — ^  signifia  "A  SUIVRE",  la 
symbols  ▼  signifia  "FIN  ". 


Mapa,  plataa.  charts,  ate,  may  ba  flimad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratioa.  Thoaa  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraly  includad  in  ona  axpoaura  ara  flimad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar.  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  framaa  aa 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrama  illuatrata  tha 
mathod: 


Laa  cartas,  planchas.  tablaaux.  ate.  pauvant  dtre 
filmte  *  das  taux  da  reduction  diff*rants. 
Lorsqua  la  documant  ast  trop  grand  pour  dtra 
raproduit  9n  un  saul  clich*.  il  ast  film*  *  partir 
da  I'angla  sup*riaur  gaucha.  da  gaucha  A  droite, 
at  da  haut  un  baa.  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imagaa  n*cassaira.  Las  diagrammas  suivants 
illuatrant  la  m*thoda. 


1 

2 

3 

1  2  3 

4  5  6 


'■•1;. 


'  '/I'M' I   .\'\>f, 


■ui 

at 
'■J 


.1,1; 


TIIK 


CALUMirr  OP  Till:  COTHAU, 


AND    OTHKR 


POETICAL  LI'GliXDS  OF  Till:  BORDliR. 


ALSO, 


A  GLOSSARY  OF  INDIAN  NAMFS,  WORDS,  AND 
WESTERN  PROVINCIALISMS. 


TOGETHER   WITH 


A   GUIDE-BOOK 

OF    THE       • 

YELLOWSTONE    NATIONAL    PARK. 


By    p.    W.    NORRIS, 

MVn  YHARS   SUPERINTIJNnUNT  OP  T„«   YMLLOWS ICNK    NATIONAL   PARK. 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J,   B.   LIPPINCOTT    &    CO. 
1883. 


Copyright,  1883,  by  P.  W.  NuKRIS, 


M 

w 

''I 
1 

I 


To  my  early  and  dear  friend  who  lonjr  ago  l.y  the  Miami  of  the 
Lakes,  in  the  wilds  of  \„ithw^  tern  Ohio,  stren.,'thcned  my  youthful 
ambitiun,  J  am  indd)ted  f.,r  the  impulses  vJdch  from  time  to  time 
found  expression  in  jjoetic  fancy. 

As  a  reminder  of  tlio.se  days,  so  frau-hl  with  pleasure  and  profit, 
and  as  a  sliglit  token  of  |,rratitudc  to  one  wliose  character  I  admire 
and  whose  friendship  I  cherish,  the  following  legends  are  dedicated 
to  the 

HoNORAiii.K  MORRISON   R.  WAITE, 

C/u',/  Jiisfue  of  the  United  States. 


I   SING   IN   SONGS. 


4^ 


1  SIN«  in  songs  of  ^li'liii";  lays 
Of  forest  scenes  in  Ijordcr  days; 
Of  lipplinjr  lills  in  valleys  yreen, 
Anil  niinored  liil!>  in  lakelet  slieen  ; 
Of  niountain-i)eaks  be»;iit  with  snow, 
And  flowery  jiarks,  pine-j^irt  below; 
Of  darinj;  deeds  of  border  braves, 
On  dashing  steeds,  to  gory  graves; 
Of  brawny  breast  'neath  painted  plume, 
On  warrior's  crest,  in  dash  to  doom ; 
Of  light  canoc  on  dashing  shore, 
And  daring  crew,  who'll  row  no  more; 
Of  goblins  grim  and  canons  grand, 
And  geysers  spouting  o'er  the  strand  ; 
Of  Mystic  Lake,  of  Wonder-Land. 


INTRODUCTION. 


Tmk  production  of  tlic  stanzas  which  compose  tlic  fol- 
h)\ving  narratives  of  incidents,  legends,  and  traditions  of 
horder-life  are  not  tlie  result  of  any  preconceived  plan 
or  elaborate  preparation,  but  arc  the  spontaneous  out- 
growth of  circumstances  and  events  as  diverse  and  pecu- 
liar as  the  strains  in  which  they  are  written  or  the  scenes 
which  they  portray. 

Tender  affection  and  filial  regard  for  a  disabled  soldier 
sire  of  Pilgrim  descent,  an  affectionate  mother  of  Welsh 
birth  anil  lineage,  and  a  numerous  family  of  young  and 
dependent  sisters,  im[)elled  my  boyish  footsteps  from  our 
frontier  cabin  of  love  to  the  toils  and  dangers  of  a  trap- 
per's life  along  the  great  lakes,  rivers,  and  amid  the 
mountains  of  the  pathless  Northwest,  in  order  to  assist 
one  parent  in  his  increasing  age  and  failing  strength, 
and  the  other  in  her  efforts  with  the  rude  weaver's  shuttle 
in  providing  for  the  comfort  and  education  of  my  sisters. 
From  this  revered  Welsh  mother  I  doubtless  inherit  an 
ardent  love  for  mountain  and  song.  The  stern  realities 
of  border-life  strengthened  the  one  and  wellnigh  strangled 
the  other;  and  under  the  opinion,  still  retained,  that  the 
poet's  fLinlastic  visions  rarely  accord  with  the  cool  calcu- 

9 


to 


/.\  Ao/>tr77o.v. 


I 


l.itions  rcqiii^ite  for  business  sucrcss,  I  si-ldom  nllowod 
these  (l.iy  tlreams  eiuoiira^cineiil  or  reronl.  Yet  tliese 
iinhidilen  visions  were  occasionally  pencilled  l»y  the 
camp-fire,  in  hours  of  danger,  as  a,  sohue  from  <arc 
or  as  a  tribute  to  the  memory  of  cherished  comra<les 
gone;  but  they  were  sehlom  long  retained  amid  my 
wanderings. 

Those  \vhi(  h  memory  cherished  were  published  under 
the  /wm  (/(•  /</////ir  of  '*  (lien  Alpine,"  my  own  name,  for 
business  rcaso'is,  being  usually  concealed. 

Of  these,  "Gallant  Charley  Reynohls,"  "Cloud-Cir- 
cled Mountains,"  and  especially  "The  Union  of  the 
Valleys,"  published  soon  after  the  Custer  massacre,  were 
encouragingly  received.  Since  that  time  the  remaining 
poems  have  b^w-n  written,  usually  with  pencil  only,  when 
and  where  occasion  called  them  forth,  and  preserved, 
which  was  generally  all  accorded  them  during  my  five 
successive  years  of  arduous  duties  as  superintendent  of 
the  Yellowstone  National  l\irk.  Pending  the  adjustment 
of  my  accounts  in  connection  with  this  duty,  and  the 
l)reparatiohs  for  those  of  Kihnological  research  among  the 
mounds  and  other  prehistoric  remains  in  the  Mississippi 
Valley  during  the  past  season,  these  fugitive  j)oems  were 
gathered  up,  revised,  and,  with  explanatory  notes  and  a 
glossary,  somewhat  arranged,  and  now,  together  with  a 
few  additional  legends,  and  a  maj)  and  guide  for  the 
Yellowstone  National  Park,  prepared  for  publication. 

It  must  be  evident  that  persons  associating  in  youth 
with  comrades  of  many  nations,  speaking  dissimilar  Ian- 


rVTKODiCT/O.y, 


II 


giiagcs,  tlic  tjuttural  jargon,  or  cinitloyiii^;  j^igns  as  a  nvxle 
oi  communication,  could  hardly  cHcn|)c  acfiuirin^  lantin^ 
lial)ifs  of  s|»cc(  h  and  a  style  of  writing  very  iinliki*  tlwir 
native  tongue  ;  liciui*,  despite  <  han^'e  in  the  construe  lion 
of  verses,  and  the  atldition  of  («)nne(ling  words  in  many 
of  these  Stan/as,  abniulant  evidence  renuiins  to  prove 
they  were  written  tinned  with  an  idioni  ( learly  distinct 
from  ortiinary  l-jii^lislj.  Tliis  is  rcj^ielted,  ami  earnest 
efforts  luive  been  nuule  for  its  modification  in  tlie  recent 
use  of  words  and  construction  of  sentences.  Thus  tire 
want  of  grammatical  accuracy  in  this  work  is  not  as  in 
those  of  some  auliiors,  an  inlenlion;il  provincialism,  hut 
the  inherent  defects  of  the  early  training  of  the  author; 
and  hence  it  is  ho[)ed  thai  liiis  c:otisideration  may  somc- 
wliat  turn  aside  the  shafts  of  imfriendly  criticism. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  conceded  that  this  ailmilled  lack  of 
style  and  finish  in  the  verses  is  in  part  counterbalanced 
by  the  truthful  des(  ription  of  tlie  marvels  in  the  Goblin 
and  Wonder- Lands,  ami  the  ever-chan;;ing  scenes  of  the 
border,  in  wliich  the  author  has  largely  parlici[)ited,  and 
the  faithful  recital  of  t'.o  legends  or  traditions  of  the  days 
agone. 

Nor  has  the  autlior  sought  to  invade  the  sacred  pre- 
cincts of  classic  literature,  or  trespass  upon  the  trodden 
fields  of  poetic  fame,  but  as  a  tireless  pioneer  and  path- 
Inder,  he  has  exi)lored  the  route,  blazed  the  trail,  and 
brought  away,  rough-hewn  and  mipulishcd,  some  of  the 
countless  gems  hidden  upon  the  rolling  coteaus,  the 
snow-  and  cliff-encircled  parks  and  lovely  valleys  of  an 


•■^Il^ 


X2 


INTRODUC'llON. 


empnc  now  in  the  closing  throes  of  transition  from  a 
race  of  stoic  Ictliurgy  to  that  of  resistless  energy  and 
progress. 

If,  by  the  publication  of  these  gliding  narratives  of 
slaughter,  of  sorrow,  of  heroism,  or  of  hope,  the  author 
shall  have  rescued  from  im[)ending  oblivion  a  few  of  the 
thrilling  scenes  and  unknown  actors  of  this  momentous 
era,  anil  thereby  encouraged  others  to  fill  future  poetic 
volumes  of  authentic  history,  he  will  feel  that  recalling 
and  publishing  these  camp-fire  recollections  and  sketches 
of  a  life  upon  the  border  has  not  been  utterly  in  vain. 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


TiiK  Cai.l'mkt  of  the  Coteau 

'I'lIH   (ioiil.lN-LAND 

Thk  Mystic  Lakk  of  Wondkr-Land 

Tiir,  Faithful  Lovkrs  . 

GAF.LANr  Charlky  Rkynoijjs 

Pilgrims  of  the  Yellowstone    . 

Captive  Maiden    .... 

The  Wonder-Land 

Bold  Hero  of  the  Border 

Stalwart  Yeoman 

Go  Where  Duty  Calls  Thke      . 

The  Dying  Mandans    . 

The  Dying  Trapper 

15o/.EMAN  Bold        .... 

'J'he  Cloud-Circled  Mcjuntains   . 

Where  Else  on  Earth? 

Bradley  the  Brave     . 

From  Big-Horn's  Bleak  Mountains 

Mystic  Land 

The  Granger  Song 

Border  Brave 

The  Tattooed  Artist 

The  Mosquito 

Frightened  Hans  . 

The  Winding  Dell 

Afar  from  the  Cities  and  Hamlets  of  Men 

Oh,  is  there  in  this  World  so  Drear? 

To  THE  Tie  at  Home  .... 

The  Warrior's  Grave  .... 

I  Sing  in  Songs 

2 


PACR 

17 
40 

45 
50 
60 

63 
67 

70 

n 
75 
77 
79 
81 
84 

86 
88 
90 
92 

94 

96 

99 

lOI 

no 
112 
114 
117 
119 
121 
123 
125 


M 


TAIU.E   OF  CONTENTS, 


Blaze  Urighii.y,  ()  CAMP-riKi:!    . 
Union  ok  thi,  Vaii.kys 
Oil,  FOR  Hard  to  Truly  Trkasukk 
Rustic  nRii)i;K  and  Crystal  Falls 
llKiJi  'rowKRs   iiiK  Crai;gy  SuM.Mir 

l.ONLLY    GLKN 

Klynolds's  DiKcr, 

Yks,  i»k  ri"  Thus     . 

In  Cabin,  Camp,  or  Council 

Vls,  Evkry  On i:  a  Man 

TiiK  Artist  Siam.ky    . 

Min-nk-ha-iia 

LOVKLY    RiVliR 

Burial  Tr.Ei'Lii 

Bold  Traitkr  of  thk  Cami'-firf 

TiiK  Warrior's  Dirok  . 

Cyi'Rkss  Shadows  . 

I'vii  Traii.i-.d  thk  Proud  Columhia 

Ho,  Wakin! 

Northern  Clime  .... 

1)E  Soto 

Notes 

(Ilossary 

Guide-book  of  the  Yellowstone  Na 


tional  Park 


l-AUB 

127 

129 

'J2 

•35 

137 

138 

139 
140 

141 

145 
146 

147 
148 
149 

iSo 
>52 
«53 
'57 
159 
162 
171 
223 

23s 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


I.  The  Cliff  and  Quarry  of  tiik  Pii-kstonk  or  Sacrkd 


P4cn 


Calumkt Fronli 

2.  TiiF  Indian  Council 
3    Custkk's  Battle-ground 

4.  Tiik  Gohlin  Labyrinths 

5.  The  Daring  Maiden 

6.  The  Dyinc;  Trapper 

7.  Rustic  Bridge  and  Crystal  Falls 

8.  Map  of  the  Yellowstone  National  Park 

9.  Mammoth  Hot  Springs 

10.  Map  of  the  Upper  Geyser  Basin 

11.  Bee- Hive  Geyser   .... 


■spifce 


24 

37 
43 
56 
82 

m> 

23s 

245 

255 
257 


p 


THE    CAL-U-MK'I'   OF   THE   COTEAU. 

'Say,  hast  thou  seen   the  cal-ii-met*  of  pink  or  purple 

bright, 
A  pipe-bowl  in  the  council,  a  hatchet  in  the  fight? 
And  heard  the  Indian  legend,  all  of  a  deUige  grand, 
Of  time  agone  uncounted  o'er  the  Da-ko-ta  land ; 
When  a  remnant  of  the  red  men  upon  a  rocky  crest 
Were  gathered  where  the  eagle  had  built  his  lofty  nest, 
And  the  rising  waters  swallowed  all  save  a  virgin  lone, 
Who  clung  to  the  war-eagle  and  nestled  in  his  home ; 
When  from  receding  waters  the  rocky  crest  arose, 
liO  !  turned  to  shining  jasper  were  mingled  friends  and 

foes? 

Then  hovered  the  Man-i-touf  to  view  the  horrid  scene, 

A  cliff  of  rocky  warriors  above  the  coteau  green  : 

"  This  rock,"  he  cries,  *'  is  sacred  ;  no  warrior  here  shall 

stand 
With  bended  bow  and  arrow,  or  battle-lance  in  hand ; 
No  war-whoop  here  shall  echo,  no  scalping-knife  shall 

gleam. 
But  o'er  the  rolling  coteau  shall  glide  a  crystal  stream. 
And  emerald  pools  shall  sparkle  along  the  lovely  vale. 
For  cleansing  baths  of  warriors,  where    foes   shall    not 

assail ; 


*  Cal'u-mct,  the  sacred  pipe  of  peace. 

f  Man-t  (pronounced  c)  -tou,  tlie  Mysterious  Spirit,  or  God. 
/>  2*  17 


i8 


THE   CAI.-UMET  OF   HIE   COTEAU. 


Ihit  all  shall  meet  in  fricndsliip  around  the  rocky  crest, 
Where   the  weak  shall  dwell   in  safety  and   the   'weary 
be  at  rest.'  " 


Thus  spake  the  proud  Man-i-tou  unto  the  mongrel  brood 
Of  the   maiden  and   war-eagle,  who  stern  around    him 

stood, 
Who  on  the  crest  an  altar  of  shining  jasper  made, 
And  sacrifice  of  bison  upon  it  reeking  laid, 
As  pledge  of  coi.ipact  sacred,  when,  lo  !    from  cal'mct- 

bowl — 
The  wand  of  the  Man-i-tou — the  flames  of  heaven  roll 
From  the  stem  to  waiting  altar,  as  lightning  from  above. 
And  incense  sweet  from  bison  seals  pledge  of  peace  and 

love, — 
From  altar,  then,  Man-i-tou  quick  carves  a  cal'met  bright. 
And  how  to  smoke  it  taught  them,  then  vanished  from 

their  sight ; 
But  the  Was-sa-mo-win*  flashing  transpierced  the  eagle's 

nest, 
And  glazed  to  hardest  adamant  the  towering  jasper  crent ; 
But  the  foot-print  of  the  eagle  deep  in  the  rock  remains. 
And  the  blood  of  slaughtered  bison  the  crag  a  crimson 

stains. 

Forth  went  the  stalwart  red  men,  and  wandered  o'er  the 

earth. 
Each  clan  with  purple  cal'mets  carved  at  their  place  of 

birth. 
To  smoke  on  each  occasion  of  council  for  a  peace. 
When  all  who  smoked  to  totem  pledged  massacre  should 

cease ; 

*  Was'sa-mo'win,  lightning. 


TIIK   CM.  C MET  OF   THE   COTEAU.  19 

But  the  pijjc  with  bludc  of  hatclict,  and  stem  witli  eagle's 

plume, 
And  i)aint   of  bright  vermilion,  are  smoked  as  call  of 

doom  ! 
For  eagle's  plnme  on  hatchet-stem  was  the  totem  of  the 

sire, 
Which  warriors  made  in  battle,  and  stoics  in  the  fire; 
While  the  bowl  of  peaceful  maiden  was  smoked  for  war 

to  cease. 
That  each  shonUl  meet  as  kindred,  and  all  should  dwell 

in  ])eace. 

lUit  lost   were   maidens*   cal-u-mets,  wiiile  the  warrior's 

hatchet  new 
Was  ever  carved  more  gorgeous,  as  savage  habits  grew  ; 
And,  as  virtue  ever  suffers  by  compromise  with  crime, 
So  the  eagle's  bloody  hatchet  hewed  the  maiden's  i)ipe  in 

time ; 
And  when  her  children  wandered  far  to  the  cal'mct  land, 
Lo  !  too  hard  was  rock  to  make  them  with  tool  in  human 

hand  ; 
In  sore  distress,  the  Wa-kon,  as  mother  of  the  race, 
With  sacrifice  and  prayer,  was  sought  to  show  her  face ; 
When  lo  !   in  cloud  she  hovered  above  the  eagle's  nest. 
And  sweet- voiced   like  the   zephyrs,   her  children   thus 

addressed  : 


**  Oh,  children  !   my  children  !  your  prayers  I  hear, 
Go  forth  on  the  coteau  and  gather  the  deer, 
The  elk  and  the  bison,  and  antelope  fleet. 
For  slaughter  and  offering  as  sacrifice  sweet ; 
=  l^ut  the  bison,  so  lofty,  so  fleet,  and  so  white. 
Oh  !  mar  not  his  beauty,  but  follow  his  flight ! 


20 


THE    CAI.-U-MET  Oh    THE    COJEAC. 


I 


Wliorc  liis  lioofs  tmii  the  rocks  on  the  trail  of  tlie  slaiti, 
III  that  crimson-stained  rill  seek  for  pipe-stone  again, — 
(\irvc  and  smoke  from  the  (jiiarry  by  l)U)0(l  rendered  soft ; 
Live  in  peace  with  eacli  otlier,  —  I'll  view  from  aloft  ! 
'I'hat  the  eagle  may  sanction  this  compact  divine, 
^ These  five  eggs  I  leave  for  your  witness  and  mine; 
*  Lo  !  beneath  are  two  grottos  for  Wa-root-ka's  home, 
To  watch  all  yonr  doings  wherever  I  roam. 
I-arewell,  my  dear  children  !   I'm  goddess  at  home  ; 
IJut  tile  proud  eagle  governs  the  warriors  who  roam  1" 


.i« 


i<} 


I 


Thus  spake  the  mother  Wakon,  beneath  her  floating  hair 
Of  waving  spray  an«l  rainbow,  then  vanished  into  air. 
Adftwn  into  the  valley  they  trailed  the  bison  white, 
When  near  the  eggs  (now  adamant)  beheld  a  cheering 

sight  ; 
Of  cal'met  ro(  k  a  fnigment  by  bison  hoof  upturned, 
In  stream  of  blood  from  sacrifice,  upon  the  coteau  burnetl ; 
The  (piarry  fountl,  deep  in  the  ground,  beside  the  crystal 

stream, 
Ever  retains  those  crimson  stains,  matchless  to  carve  and 

gleam  ; 
Whence  alone  have  cal'mcts  jnirple  for  all  the  Indian  race 
Quarried  been  beneath  the  waters,  which  bear  a  crimson 

trace. 


Full  soon  were  pilgrims  gathered,  from  Win-ne-ba-go  band, 
And  Chcr-o-kee  and  Choc-taw,  from  sunny  southern  land  ; 
The  Mo-hawk  and  Wy-an-dotte,  from   eastern  timbered 

vales, 
Brule,  Flat-head,  and  Wa-lu-la,  amid  the  western  dales; 
The  Sem-i-noleand  Eu-taw,  'mid  creeping  southern  vines, 
Bold   Chip-pe-wa  and    Hu-ron,  from   tow'ring   northern 

pines ; 


rill']  cM-r MET  Oh  riiE  cotf.au. 


21 


The    Tc-qiiod   and    Mo-liic-iin,   from    Atlantic's   granite 

shore, 
With  (\i>  use  and  Nis-([iKdda,  frcjui  the  Umd  I'a(iri<:'s  roar; 
The  lbn-no(  k  and  Sho-shon-e,  (hill  Ute  and  crafty  Crow, 
5  iioUi  Chey-enne  and  Da-ko-ta,  the  latter  called  bi-oux. 


IJrave  ?a\v-nee  of  the  prairies,  Pi-ute  from  Lava  Plains, 
A-rick-a-rec  and  Man-dan  (whose  fields  Missouri  drains); 
Pilgrims  from  each  were  gathered,  friends  here,  though 

elsewhere  foes  I 
In  pools  removed  was  war-paint,  plunged  hatchets,  lance, 

and  bows, 
As  brothers  all  united  to  gather,  carve,  and  smoke 
Cal-u-mets    from    (juarry   sacred,    and    Man-i-tou's    love 

invoke; 
Yoimg  warriors  with  ambition  the  "  Leaping-Rock"  to 

press,  • 

Found  horrid  death  in  failure,  and  honor  in  success; 
Mn  jasper  cairn  they  buried  the  maiil  and  warrior  gone, 
And  bright  their  totems  painted  ui)on  the  walls  of  stone. 

O,  lovely  days  of  beauty  and  happy  niglits  of  peace  1 
All  countless  are  the  bison,  the  elk  are  slain  with  ease ; 
The  Man-dan  round  his  earth-lodge  his  garden  tills  secure. 
The  yellow  trout,  and  speckled,  fill  dashing  streamlet  i)ure; 
'The  woolly-sheep  and  big-horn  skip  near  the  crests  of 

snow, 
Unnuml)cred  in  the  valleys  are  the  shaggy  buffalo ; 
Swift  antelope  and  black-tails  bedeck  the  treeless  plains, 
And  swans  with  snowy  plum:ige  the  glades  Missouri  drains; 
In  light  canoes  the  Chip-pe-was  their  Mon-o-nim*  secure, 
These  countless  gifts  of  providence  to  nature's  God  allure. 


*  Mon-o-nini,  wild  rice. 


23 


?///■:  CI /•{..]//: 7  or  the  coteau. 


( )I),  these  Missful  (lays  arc  waning,  and  hilter  days  begun, 
Willi  tl)o  (oniing  of  the  pale-face  athwart  the  rising  sun  I 
Their  *•  big  canoes"   with   ea^le-wings  arc  matchless  in 

the  ra<i , 
'I'errific  are  the  warriors  with  bearded  throat  aiul  face, 
'lieslride  fleet  hornless  bison,  resistless  in  the  strife, 
And  from  their  side  oft  Hashes  a  long  and  flaming  knife  ; 
I'VoM)    bosom   gleams  bright   totems,   war-bonnets  shield 

their  eyes, 
Kach  war-lance  darling  liglitning,   their   ihunders  rend 

the  skies ; 
Flames  from  their  monster  cal-u-mets  bla/e  like  a  meteor 

star, 
And  unseen  barbless  arrows  are  deadly  from  afar. 


The  artless  (  hild  of  nature  in  silent  wonder  gazed, 
'Then  from  the  **  Mighty  Medicine"  in  terror  fled  amazed. 
Scarce  had   these  tales  of  wonder  traversed   the  mighty 

lakes, 
ICre  echoing  new  thunder,  primeval  silence  breaks; 
Nor  hissing  bolts  of  murder  pursue  for  human  gore, 
'"Pure  Hen-ne-pin  and  Du-luth  visit  for  good  the  shore; 
And  through  untrodden  forests  they  seek  the  boundless 

West, 
"Till  the  Prairie  Min-ne-tan-ka  their  wanderings  arrest, 
When   lo  I    amid   the   pastures  of  mingled    flowers   and 

green, 
High  o'er  the  Min-ne-ha-ha,  St.  Anthony  is  seen. 
On  halo  crest  of  rainbow  that  spans  his  canon  walls 
He  with  his  own  name  christens  the  Mis-sis-sii)-i)i  Palls, 
And   hails   the  wond'ring   Frenchman,   in  accents  clea? 

and  strong, 
*'Adown  this  mighty  river  in  safety  glide  along 


THE   CM.-l'-Ml.t    O/'    HIE   CO  THAU. 


^S 


From  tlu-  lake-land  of  the  pinc-trcc  to  llic  ryprcss  by  tl»c 

8ca, 
lint  aloii^'  its  western  borders  arc  a  jjeople  Iirave  and  free. 
No  pale-facc  foot  in  sa<rilej,'e  may  press  Dakota's  j)lains, 
l'"or  ihns  onr  Wa-kan-tan-ka  the  sacred  riglu  ordains. 
Willi  (nrling  snu)ke  of  <:al-u-met  they'll  greet  yon  to  iheir 

shore, 
lint  all  advance  the  tomahawk  will  terminate  in  gore." 
With  kind    intent   the  warning  given,   in    birclK'n-!)ark 

canoe, 
Like  Chipi)ewa,  St.  Anthony  cpiick  vanishes  from  view. 

Full  soon  the  sojis  of  natnre  in  mighty  c:onn(  il  meet, 
To  pledge  the  roving  pale-face  as  brother  all  to  greet. 
'■"With  pnri)le  pipe  the  chieftain  first  heavenward  points 

above. 
Then  east,  and  west,  and  north,  and  south,  for  witnesses 

to  prove 
The    friendshij)   that    he   proffers,   u[)ward   with   curling 

smoke. 
Prove  ever  true  and  lasting,  or  the  Wa-kon*s  curse  invoke  I 
With  one  long  puff  from  sacred  pipe,  each  passes  it  along, 
'Mid  bold  harangues  of  warriors  and  mingleil  dance  and 

song, 
Till  all  have  pledged  Man-i-tou  each  as  a  friend  to  know, 
While  sun  and  moon  shall  circle,  or  crystal  waters  ^i^w. 

Thus,  where  the  Min-ne-so-ta  the  Mis-sis-sip-pi  meets. 
And  fairy  Min-ne-ha-ha  in  matchless  beauty  sleei)s, 
Warriors  of  Man-i-to-ba  and  from  Mis-sou-ri's  strand, 
Foxes  of  Mil-wau-kee  and  the  Mi-am-i  grand. 
Chieftain  of  Min-ne-o-la,  on  crcstetl  helmet  sheen, 
Runners  of  Min-ne-o-pa,  from  rolling  coteaus  green. 
With  fiery  Mish-e-wau  kee  pledged  the  Man  i  ton  (lod 
That  coteaus  of  Da-ko-ta  by  whites  should  ne'er  be  trod; 


«4 


Till.    CM.L'Ml.r  01'    I  III.    COTEAl 


l! 


Hut  tlu'  roaring  Min  no  t.m-ka  a  bordir  hciuo  ^hall  bo 
Hclwixt  the  native  rovers  anil  those  fr«)ui  o'er  tlic  sea. 
Firbt  i)ale-f.ue  then  from  the  t(jun{;il  atU)\vn   llie   river 

passed  ; 
lly  the  fate  of  Indian  nations,  happy  had  they  been  the 

hist  I 


,^'^^   .-Tf 


s;,   }.    -s'-'^-   »-V«,  'V, 


Tin:    INDIAN    COUNCIL. 


Too  soon,  alas  !  the  I-ong  Knife  upon  his  charger  came  j 
Anew  they  smoked  the  cal'met,  and  friendship  pledged 


again  ; 


But  no  Lc  Sueur  or  Jo  li-ette,  with  hearts  of  truth  and 

love  : 
'Twas  now  a  band  of  traders,  robbers  where'er  they  rove. 


7///;   CAL-V'MET  Ot    TllE   COTIiAU, 


as 


Wiih  hotuyed  words,  l>ut  htMrt»  of  lust,  they  protiUHtl 


hilt  t 


(>  win, 


Pnnlisi'd  vile  arts  on  innoi  cnco,  proud  revilliiif;  in  sin  ; 
CiicMling  alike  in  what  they  bought,  ami  gaudy  trinkets 

HoUl ; 
I'lvery  rraft  was  jiistified  to  ^'arner  furs  and  gohl  ; 
The  flowing  cup  of  sorrow  they  luring  hold  in  sight, — 
I'clf  saiK  tifies  the  weapons, — "Huctxss  is  ever  right." 
"  Naught  <  are  they  for  the  sufferings,  the  hunger,  thirst,  or 


i;o 


Id 


Of  agonizing  vie  tiins,  so  witli  gore  they  g.ither  gold. 

At  first  they  taste  with  caution,  then  drink  and  drink 
again, 

lake  flock  of  simple  goslings,  soon  sense  wilh  bottle 
dr.iin  ; 

'I'lien  dance,  and  laugh,  and  swagger, — men,  not  maid- 
ens, kiss,  then  fight. 

Reeling,  they  fall  while  boasting;  for,  to  ait  tlu  demon 
right, 

Needless  stage,  or  school,  or  coUe^^e  ;  for  lo  !  one  l)ollle 
fiill 

Of  liquid  fire  ruin  brings  to  wisdom,  wealth,  and  soul. 

Slaying  alike  all  nations, — the  merry  sons  of  Franc:e, 

The  sturdy  sons  of  Krin,  or  Hrule  with  scalping  dance. 

I'roud  slaves  it  makes  of  votaries,  who  freedom  ne'er  re- 
gain,— 

The  viler  gall  the  fetters,  the  sweeter  seems  the  chain. 

Thus  with  the  simple  red  men:  entranced  by  poison  vile, 
HHiile  to  their  old  friends  cruel,  they  on  the  traders  smile. 
And  in  their  revels  barter,  not  furs  and  health  alone, 
IJut  wife  and  ilaughter's  virtue,  to  trader,  viler  grown. 
And  when  the  coteau-mother,  her  simple  lace  to  save, 
Invokes  the  Ivigle  chieftain,  him  too  she  finds  a  slave 


26 


'THE   CA/.-U-MET  OF   THE   COTEAU, 


Of  ',\issior.  vile  and  cruel — oh,  horrid  tale  to  tell  !  — 
His  daughter,  young  and  lovely,  to  trader  seeks  to  sell, 
'••For  wife  to  grace  the  harem,  and  firm   mite  his  race 
With  chieftain  of  the  Long-Knife  and  smiling  bearded 
face  I 

Behold  the  mother  Wa-kon,  upon  the  coteau  crest. 
In  agony  imploring  for  her  i)c()])le  sore  oppressed  : 

"  Man-i-tou  !   oh,  ^T  m-i-tou  !  save  us 

From  the  foe  that  would  enslave  us  j 

From  the  pale-face  ever  smiling 

On  the  maiden  he's  beguiling, 

And  from  ancient  brave  confiding, 

Robs  the  pinto  he's  bestriding. 

To  the  warrior  proud  and  daring 

Cup  of  Minne-bo-ta  bearing, 

Thus  the  fount  of  sorrow  nursing, 

Soon  a  flood  of  crime  and  cursing  ! 

"Now,  my  chief,  once  true  .  nd  loving, 

From  my  arms  is  ever  roving, 

And  for  fount  of  fiery  water 

Seeks  to  barter  (Girling  daughter; 

Oh,  night  of  woe,  and  morn  of  sorrow. 

Dark  the  day  and  drear  the  morrow  ! 

Oh,  my  .stricken  form  is  quaking, 

And  my  yearning  henrt  is  breaking  ! 

Oh,  Man-i-tou  !  save  my  daughter. 

And  chief  and  race  from  crime  and  slaughter  !" 


Where  the  lovely  Mississippi  unites  with  Pepin  Lake 
's  Tower  high  o'er  crystal  waters  huge  crags  of  crumbling 
slate ; 


THE    CAL-U-MET  OF   THE    C07EAU. 


27 


In  fiiiry  grove,  'mid  prairie,— hard  by,— stood  pale-face 

den, 
And  tlierc  pure  Min-ne-ha-ha  was  to  have  wedded  been ; 
But  ere  she  left  tlie  fairy  falls  wb.ich  honor  still  her  name, 
She  to  her  Min-ne-o-la  jiledged  faithful  to  remain  : 
Then  down  the  stream  in  birch  canoe  he  vanishes  unseen 
To  Pepin's  hidden  grotto,  and  there  awaits  his  queen  ; 
With  life  and  hope  and  nimble  step,  if  fate  allow  her  to. 
If  not,  to  leap  from  towering  rock,  and  die  with  lover  true. 

The  spirit  of  the  Eagle,  with  hatchet,  plume,  and  lance, 
Was  ever  for  the  war-path,  the  reeking  scalj),  and  dance, 
While  the  nature  of  the  maiden  through  all  these  ages  ran 
With  tenderness  to  woman  and  fellowship  with  man. 
Tho'  wars  were  fierce  and  bloody  upon  the  distant  plain, 
O'er  all  the  sacred  coteau  there  spouts  no  crimson  stain, — 
And  in  its  vale  of  refuge  beneath  the  rocky  dome 
Are  ever  peace  and  safety  as  in  a  parent's  home; 
But  red  men  on  the  river  have  evil  grown  apace, — 
The  doings  of  the  Long-Knife  have  ever  cursed  the  race. 

The  trader's  speckled  harem  of  every  tribe  and  hue. 

Of  wrangling  whelps  and  pappoose,  and  maidens  ever  new, 

'Twas  there  pure  Min-ne-ha-ha  was  sought  for  a  queen 

awhile, 
'^Then  thrust  aside  degraded,  to  delve  in  kennel  vile  ! 
Strange  if  with  such  example  she  fails  to  see  the  snare, 
Or  seeing,  preferred  dying;  but  first  a  maiden's  prayer: 
'*  Man-i-tou  1   oh,   Man-i-tou  !  grant  hunger,  thirst,  and 

toil. 
Faint,  paddling  in  the  rapids  or  delving  in  the  soil. 
Share  the  sufferings  of  our  people,  the  perils  of  our  race. 
But  wed  me  not  to  pale-face, — pray  spare  me  that  dis- 
grace,— 


28 


THE    CAL-U-MET  OF   THE   COTE  A  U. 


I  love  my  Min-nc-o-la, — oh  !  let  me  share  his  lot, 
Or  deep  beneath  the  waters  be  evermore  forgot  l" 

But  frenzied  was  the  Eagle  by  venom  from  the  still, 
And  to  gratify  tiiat  jjassion  relentless  was  his  will; 
In  vain  was  mother's  pleading,  unheeded  maiden's  prayer, 
His  warriors*  scowls  derided  ('twas  in  the  trader's  lair)  ; 
With  hatchet  high  uplifted  (no  passage  knew  to  plain), 
Vowed  she  should  Long-Knife  marry,  or  mingle  with  the 

slain  1 
The  daring  wife  of  Eagle,  with  all  a  mother's  love, 
'7  The  secret  passage  oi)ens, — quick  darts  the  turtle-dove  1 

'*  Love,  mother, — oh,  my  mother !  to  you  and  chieftain 

true, 
Pure,  I'll  die  with  Min-ne-o-la !"    and  to  the  crest  she 

flew, — 
No  frenzied  sire  nor  Long-Knife,  nor  lance  nor  quivering 

dart, 
Can  reach  the  flying  maiden  or  pierce  the  fluttering  heart. 
The  summit  gained,  alas !  one  glance  at  earth,  then  heaven  ! 
Then  from  the  giddy  crest  she  leaped,  like  bolt  by  thunder 

riven. 
Deep  'mid  the  crystal  waters,  pure  as  her  truth  and  love. 
To  arms  of  waiting  chieftain,  where  mermaids  ever  rove  ! 
Though  ages  long  have  vanished,  warriors  and  nations 

sleep, 
'^  Still  oft  in  wave-kissed  grottos  sing  they  at  **  Maiden's 

Leap." 


"All  hidden  our  grotto  beneath  the  blue  waters. 
That  requiems  murmur  as  gliding  along; 

Nor  wrath  of  the  Eagle  at  queen  of  his  daughters 
Our  refuge  shall  darken,  or  fetter  our  song : 


THE   CALUMET  OF   THE   COTEAU. 


29 


O  VVa-kon  !   our  motlier,  dost  spirit  still  hover 
Around  the  bold  cliffs  and  blue  waters  below, 

While  evening's  soft  zephyrs  waft  low  wails  of  lover 
O'er  Pepin's  pure  waters  at  twilight  aglow? 

And  while  Min-ne-so-ta  meanders  in  sadness, 

Low,  murmuring  through  valley,  'adieu  to  our  race.' 

*'And  thou,  Mis-sis-sip-pi,  bear'st  temples  in  gladness, 
With  loud  strains  of  music  their  progress  to  trace, 

Shall  plumed  Min-ne-o-la,  unchanging  as  lover. 

With  paddle  scarce  dipping,  chant  boat-song  of  braves, 

And  pure  Min-ne-ha-ha,  the  wild  cliffs  above  her. 
Make  laughing  re-echo,  our  dirge  from  the  waves  1" 

Not  humbled  by  his  folly,  nor  by  its  woe  and  cost. 
But  furious  at  the  mother  whose  love  the  maiden  lost. 
He  sealed  with  warrior's  hatchet  the  cal'met  Wa-kon's 

doom  ! 
Too  late  drunken  Man-i-tou  pale.;  'neath  his  paint  and 

plume. 
The  stroke  his  race  has  destined,  tho'  struggling  to  re- 
main. 
Yet  sure  to  fade  and  vanish.     Once  in  a  sober  vein. 
Proud  Eagle  pleads  in  anguish,-  no  Wa-kon  hears  liis 

calls : 
No  more  remorse,  but  bitterness  henceforth   his  mind 

enthralls, — 
The  mercy  of  the  maiden  has  fled  the  copper  race, — 
The  vengeance  of  the  Eagle,  relentless,  takes  its  place  ! 

And  now,  alas  I  the  Eagle  in  anger  chose  a  mate, — 
Not  one  who  fosters  mercy,  but  ever  favors  hate ; 
Who  like  an  earthly  vixen  with  jealousy  oppressed. 
Quick  soar'd  to  cal'met  coteau,  and  rent  the  Eagle's  nest ; 

3* 


30 


'I HE    CAl.-L-MET  OI'    'I HE    COTEAU. 


Then   pcK  hcd   ii[)on   the  ciuinciicc,   to  cool   her  wrath 

awhile, 
Hut  nursing'  roused  it  hij^lier,  with  i)uri)f)ses  most  vile: 
"This  is  the  IO;i<^le's  hcrita^^e,  and  1  his  favored  mate, 
These,  VVa-kon's  loving  children,  their  every  act  I  hate; 
They  meet  and  wash  the  war-paint  in  my  crystal  bathing- 

jjools. 
They  dig  and  smoke  in  friendship,  and  act  like  simple 

fools ; 
As  tho'  our  elk  and  bison  were  made  for  them  alone, 
They  sing  and  dance  and  gabble,  wild  revelling  in  our 

home, 
And  plotting  with  each  other  against  their  royal  chief, 
That  /  am  an  intruder,  War-Eagle  but  a  thief! 
While  they  audacious  plunder  the  pillars  of  our  throne. 
And  whittle  smoking  cal-u-mets  from  our  choicest  purple 

stone ; 
I'll    teach    them    how   to    chatter,   to    frolic,  sing,   and 

dance, — 
These  children   of  another, — oh,   how  I'll   make  them 

prance  !" 

Then  to  the  Eagle  hastens,  near  Min-ne-o-la's  home, 
(Lest  her  untimely  absence  allow  her  chief  to  roam); 
Like  a  true  stepmother,  his  willing  ear  she  fills 
Witii  projects  grand  but  simple,  to  'scape  all  earthly  ills. 
'Twas  but  to  borrow  thunder,  and  lance  and  gleaming 

knife, 
And  steeds  of  Shun-ka~wa-kan,*  and  follow  their  new  life 
Of  ease  upon  the  prairies,  at  cal'met  coteau  bright, 
Demanding  of  these  pilgrims  by  what  heritage  or  right 


*  Shun-ka-\va-kan,  sacred  dog, — i.e.,  liorse. 


THE   CAL-l-MET  OF  THE   COTE  A  U, 


3« 


They  live  in  ease  and  plenty  on  onr  deer  and  antelope, 

And  dig  away  our  (puirry,  or  lazily  to  mope, 

While  we   from  home  as  strangers  wander, — "Oh,  my 

chief, 
Would  thou  wert  Eagle  warrior,  then  were  our  sorrows 

briefl" 

"Hold,  my  consort !"  cries  the  Eagle, 
"  Have  all  as  yon  will ; 
I  am  ready,  I  am  willing, — 
Revel,  rob,  and  kill. 
°°  Bury  [uirple  cal'met  peaceful; 
Quench  its  azure  smoke  ; 
Grasp  the  hatchet  crimson  recking. 
Death  at  every  stroke  I 

When  the  simple  peaceful  pilgrim 

Seeks  a  cal'met  bright, 
I  will  burnish,  I  will  furnish 

For  a  wampum  bright. 
I  will  slaughter  on  the  coteau 

Till  a  crimson  stream 
Floods  the  quarry,  drowns  the  pilgrim, 

And  I  crown  my  queen. 
Then  will  follow  Min-ne-ke-wa, 

Long  a  trail  of  gore. 
From  the  coteau  to  the  river 

And  Lake  Pepin's  shore  !" 


Thus  a  new  era  opens, — once  his  passions  roused 

]}y  wine  and  crafty  woman,  he  with  the  pale-face  housed 

Hostage  ample  in  payment   for  the  murderous  tools  of 

war  ; 
Then  hastens  in  wild  splendor  to  the  coteau  of  the  fair. 


3« 


THE   CAL-U-MI:T  of   TI//C   COTEAU. 


The  pilgrims  in  amazement  gatlicr  along  the  stream 

To  view  the  prancing  chargers  and  of  arms  the  burnished 

gleam  ; 
Nor  long  were  left  to  wonder,  for  loud  the  trumpet  calls, 
And  musket  peals  re-echo  along  the  rocky  walls, 
Above  the  roaring  waters,  beside  the  Leaping-Rock, 
Which  quivers  like  an  aspen  from  the  unwonted  shock  I 

Soon  the  War-Eagle  summons  unto  his  teepee  all 
(While,  Satan-like,  his  consort  prompts  menace  with  the 

call) : 
*' Why  sap  ye  the  foundation  of  my  rocky  home  and  nest, 
l>y  digging  for  the  cal'met  beneath  its  tottering  crest? 
A  tribute's  mine, — a  portion  of  what  you  quarry  here; 
One-half  of  all  your  cal-u-mets, — sure,  that  is  not  too  dear; 
Beside,  of  deer  and  bison  and  beaver  of  the  rill 
Mine  be  the  furs  and  robes, — of  the  carcass  eat  your  fill, 
Save  choice  of  loin  tender, — hence  pledged  to  me  and 

mine, 
Ascoteau's  great  Wa-kan-da,  by  a  standing  right  divine." 

In  blank  and  mute  amazement  the  pilgrims  stand  around. 
Like  claims  of  crafty  rulers  people  wiser  oft  astound  ; 
Full  soon  they  break  and  scatter,  departing  each  his  way, 
The  cowards  to  pay  tribute,  the  bold  the  chief  to  slay. 
But  vain   on   earth   is  innocence,   the  weak  against  the 

strong, 
For  "might  makes  right,"   and    hopelessly  fights  right 

against  the  wrong. 
Full  soon  from  cowards'  tribute,  or  plunder  stained  with 

gore, 
.it  ghoul  is  paid,  with  usury,  and  shrewdly  trusted  more; 
For  slaves  of  vice  and  rapine  are  often  from  this  cause 
By  masters  safer  trusted  than  those  obeying  laws. 


THE    CAl.-lMET  Ol-    THE    COTEAU. 


33 


"' Tluis  soon  the  Wa-kan-she-rlia  \\\(\  cnislicd  or  slain  the 

race 
Of  the  evcr-h)vin!;  Wa-kon,  and  a  covey  reared  in  place — 
Fit  whelps  of  the  War-Ivigle  and  his  Cay-ou-ta  mate — 
As  venomous  as  serpents,  as  sly  and  sure  as  fate  ; 
In  league  with  vilest  pale-face,  and  through  him  with  the 

de'il, 
By  courage,  or  through  cunning,  make  all  their  neighbors 

feel 
That  such  a  race  of  robbers  resistless  soon  must  prove, 
And  slaughtered  are,  commingled,  or  far  away  remove; 
Thus  all  winds  seemed  to  favor  the  fierce  Da-ko-ta  clan. 
Scoffers  at  the  laws  of  God  !  deriders  of  the  rights  of  man  ! 

With  the  cunning  of  Mahomet,  a  religion  new  they  made, 
To  suit  their  lust  and  rai)ine,  deeming  war  a  holy  trade  ; 
Each  Sioux  born  a  warrior,  the  steed  his  constant  friend. 
His  earliest  hope  the  sun-dance,  to  nerve  and  courage 

blend  ; 
Thence  proudly  on  the  war-trail,  a  reeking  proof  to  claim, 
Scalps  heli)less  squaw  or  pappoose  (all  count  a  coup  the 

same). 
Then  yelling  to  the  council,  bedaubed  with  sickening  gore, 
Flaunts  maiden's  scalp  as  warrior, — then    hastens  after 

more ;         . 
Each  thought  and  plan  and  struggle  is  for  a  warrior's  fame. 
Blood-daubed  and  painted  savage,  loud  glorying  in  his 

shame ; 
Sure  if  his  fate  in  battle  be  from  his  steed  to  die. 
In  bliss  to  soon  bestride  him,  with  plume  on  bonnet  high  ! 


Thus  the  courage  of  the  eagle  and  the  cunning  of  the  wolf 
Are  blended  in  the  Sioux,  in  their  very  web  and  woof; 
c 


34 


•JHF.    C.\I..U MET  OF    77/ F.    C07'F.IU. 


A  score  of  clans  they  scatter  far  o'er  tlic  western  jjliins, 
From  the  h)vely  mountain  valleys  to  the  glades  Missouri 

drains, 
liiiild  their  teepees  far  in  Ih-jlain  and  their  lodges  'long 

the  IMatte, 
While  professing   peace  anil  friendship  ravage   like   tiie 

mountain-cat ; 
With  deep  regret  the  chieftain  gathers  his  clan,  to  know 
'J'he  guilty, — all  are  innocent, — "Sure,"  says  the  culprit, 

**  'twas  the  Crow." 
With  outward  grief  but  secret  sneer  at  pale-face  want  of 

sense, 
Rations  and  arms  they  thus  secure  ("poor  lambs!")  for 

self-defence  ! 


Then,  basely,  from  the  council,  they  revel  as  of  old. 
In  slaughter  of  the  ranch-men,  and  pilgrim  seeking  gold; 
The  Crow  and  the  Shoshone,  and  the  treaty  still  sustain. 
As  firmly  binding  others,  while  they  its  terms  disdain  ; 
Their  gorgeous  tents  and  teepees  loom  grander  every  day ; 
With  reservation  i)lunder,  or  from  murder  on  the  way, — 
To  lairs  beyond  the  prairies,  far  o'er  the  sterile  plaii.s. 
Amid  the  rolling  coteaus  the  mighty  Big-Horn  drains, 
Along  a  smiling  valley  beneath  a  rocky  crest, 
Wiiere  Sioux  squaw  and  warrior  in  teepees  seemed  at  rest; 
When  Custer  from  the  Rose-Bud,  adown  a  streamlet  came. 
Not  scouting  well  for  ambush,  but  boldly  seeking  fajjie. 
And  rashly  scattering  warriors,  which  united  were  too  few, 
Charged  fearless  'mid  the  teepees  where  leaden  arrows 

flew. 
Grim  smiled  the  taurine  chieftain,  as  the  war-whoop  in 

the  vale 
Shrill,  knelled  the  fate  of  Custer,  and  his  country  left  to 

wail ! 


n 


THE   CAL-V-MET  OE   HIE   CO  TEAL/. 


35 


Oh,  chosen  hiir  of  ;un!)ush  !  oh,  fatal  charge  of  braves  1 
No  inorcy  for  the  living,  and  for  the  dead  no  graves! 
For  vain  were  deeds  of  daring,  'mid  cotnuless  hosts  of  foes 


Commingled  in  the  torrent  which  red  wit 


h  carnage  Hows, — 


Or  on  the  coteau  struggling  for  victory  or  retreat, 

With  sword  and  carbine  oi)ening  a  route  through  pintos 

fleet, — 
'Mid  lasso,  lance,  and  hatchet,  tiie  conflict  soon  is  o'er, 
In  slaughter  of  our  vet'rans  who  foe  siiall  meet  no  more  ! 
And  when  tlie  evening  shadows  would  hitle  the  scene  of 

shame, 
liright  gleams  the  knife  and  hatchet  by  blazing  teepee's 

flame  ; 
And  fiends  with  reeking  troi)hies,  each  marred  with  bloody 

stain, 
Arrayed  in  gory  garments  and  tresses  of  the  slain, 
With  shout  and  strut  and  swagger  and  screeching  ambush 

yell, 
Mimic  the  groans  of  dying,  on  scenes  of  scalping  dwell, 
Till  hungry  ghouls  grow  eager,  and  venom,  conquering 

age, 
Joins  plumed  and  plumeless  savages  in  revelry  and  rage, — • 
Each  boasting  of  his  glory  in  daring  days  of  yore, — 
While  painting  for  the  war-trail  fresh  butchery  and  gore. 


And  now  from  our  legend  a  moment  refrain, 
In  this  valley  to  linger  o'er  dust  of  the  slain, 
*'And  'mid  the  wild  roses  with  carnage  once  red, 
Oh  I  chant  for  our  heroes  the  "Dirge  of  the  Dead," — 
These  heroes  whose  duties  were  finished  too  soon, 
Rosy  morning  of  promise  beclouded  ere  noon  ; 
Wiien  the  steed  and  his  rider  vain  struggled  for  shore 
At  the  ford,  where  the  torrent  ran  purjjle  with  gore; 


36 


THE   CAr.'VMI'.T  OF   HIE   COTEAU. 


I'roin  that  dark  cloud  of  battle,  red  field  of  tiu'  slain, 

Sad  tidings  ri'a(  Ii  kindtfd,  fond  hoping  in  vain  ; 

May  each  mourning  parent  tliank  (iod  for  a  son, 

Whose  trotli  to  his  country  is  faitlifully  «lone  ! 

■'On  the  crest  of  the  coteau  once  crimson  with  gore, 

Oh,  gather  our  heroes  !   their  battles  are  o'er, 

And  the  *'  long  roll  and  rally"  shall  rouse  them  no  more  I 


Soft  zephyrs  sweet  wlnspcr  their  sighs  o'er  the  plain  ; 
**  Revered  by  our  country,  not  fallen  in  vain,  ^ 

Though  moulder  our  ashes  and  lowly  each  bed, 
''I'is  only  life's  casket  which  sh:cj)S  with  the  dead  ; 
Our  spirits  arc  basking  afar  from  the  grave, 
In  bowers  of  Kden  awaiting  the  brave, 
Where  the  warrior  with  hat(  het  ne'er  enters  for  gore  ; 
For  ( al'inets  of  purple  arc  smoked  as  of  yore. 
With  friends  and  with  comrades  in  bliss  evermore. 


% 


11 


When  from  such  feast  these  demons,  begrimed  with  paint 

and  gore, 
T-cave  wolves  to  finish  revel,  and  hasten  after  more; 
'•♦Nor  bf)ld  as  men  of  courage  'gainst  remnant  on  the  hill, 
Ihit  prowling 'long  the  border,  tlie  innocent  to  kill; 
As  vultures  scent  the  carrion,  each  tei'pee  of  the  brood 
Along  the  trail  to  slaughter  swarms  forth  its  wheli)s  of 

blood  I 
The  bold,  thrifty  yeoman  seeks  wealth  in  tlie  West, 
The  mate  of  his  bosom  a  dove  from  its  nest ; 
Through  deserts  and  dangers  they  sulTer  and  roam. 
Till  in  sweet  sheltered  valley  they  make  them  a  home  ; 
Soon  neighbors  build  round  them,  all  labor  in  i)eace. 
Till  of  strength  over-conscious  does  vigilance  cease. 


3$         riii\  CM.  I  MET  or  rill',  coteau. 

iJfslriilc  his  fleet  pinto,  over  mountain  and  K'<-''^ 
Kides  tlie  proud  Sioux  <  luefiain  unto  r.ipinc  a^ain, 
Witi>  j;li()ul.s  from  the  slauglUer  of  our  ('lister  and  men, 
And  whelps  from  thiir  kennels  in  eath  v.illey  and  k'^"» 
From  tlie  trests  of  the  mountains  white  Kli^fnin^  in  snow, 
'I'hesc  friends  si  an  this  IMen  all-cnchantiuii  l>elow  ; 
In  darkness  deMcndiuj^, — fitting'  season  of  crime, — 
While  the  orb  of  tlic  evening'  refuses  to  shine, 
Like  the  s{  ream  of  tlie  eagle  o'er  the  nest  of  the  dove 
Is  the  war-whoop  of  sav.ige  in  the  valley  of  love; 
Like  true  painted  demons,  naught  is  sacretl  they  fmd,— 
llapi)y  homes  are  before  then^,  smoking  ruins  behind. 

Hut  the  sword  of  vengeance  tardy,  erst  gleaming  o'er  the 

brood 
Of  the  Kagle  and  Cay-on-ta,  tnust  now  be  drenched  in 

blood 
Drawn  forth  for  that  of  pilgrims  upon  the  coteau  slain, — 
Mercy's  plea  from  innocen(e,  be  now  as  then  in  vain. 
Trom  the  coteaus  of  Wy-o-ming  and  Co-lo-ra-do's  plains 
To  Sas-ka-sha-an  foaming,  that  IJritain's  forest  drains; 
='!'From  the  fairy  Min-ne-ha-ha  and  lover's  wailing  strand 
To  snowy  mountains  tow'ring  athwart  the  Wonder-Land, 
Revel  their  Indian  neighbors  ;  none  their  fate  bemoan  ; 
Tlie  children  reap  the  luuves    by  cruel  parents  sown. 
In  gory  banquet  reeking  sinks  ^varrior,  maid,  and  <-hild,    .^; 
'Mid  blazing  tents  and  teepi  i:s,  by  revelry  defiled  ; 
Swells  one  loud  wail  of  agony  from  sea  of  llame  and  gore. 
Like  scream  of  dying  eagle,  then  silence  evermore  1 


Long  the  spirit  of  the  Wa-kon  fond  iiovered  o'er  her  race. 
Then  from  a  land  of  horrors  she  eastward  turns  her  face, 
To  view  on  sacred  coteau  the  cal-u-met  smoked  again 
In  hap[»y  homes  of  comfort,  'mid  golden  lields  of  grain. 


TliF.  r//  f-\fi:r  oh  '////.'  ro'iF.AV. 


39 


The  (hvcIUrs  tlvrc  ;i  people,  though  paleface  to  the  view, 
III  love  and  kiiuh»e>s  living,  «>h,  c  hceriiiK  vision  new  I 
High  soaring,  long  she  viewH  them:   "oh,  happy  people 

blest, 
Who  mingle  love  an«l  valor,  anew  I'll  hniM  my  nest. 
Anil  in  memory  of  War-Kagle,  us  in  the  <lays  of  old, 
Ere  by  Min-ne-wa  kan  eaplured  and  to  the  Long-Knife 

sold, 
•*()n  the  banners  of  this  people  let  his  |)inions  soar  above 
With  my  maiilen's  tap  of  Justice,  of  Liberty,  and  Love  I" 


"i 


'^the  GoiiLix  land. 

Oh,  know  yc  tlie  legend,  when  waves  of  the  sea 
Deep  rolled  o'er  the  sumniits  of  mountains  to  be, 
Which  slowiy  but  surely  upheaved  from  below, 
Rose  taller  and  broader,  till  crested  with  snow, 
And  bubble-like  bursting  in  throes  to  go  higher. 
Were  sheeted  in  lava,  in  sulphur  and  fire? 
And  fierce  was  the  conflict,  and  fearful  the  roar 
Of  cold  lashing  surf  on  a  seething  hot  shore. 
Charge  of  seas  on  a  land  they  should  swallow  no  more. 

Long,  long  roll  the  ages,  and  cold  the  cliffs  grow. 
Cloud-hidden  their  summits,  grove-dotted  below ; 
Wear  j)rairies  and  cotcaus  briglit  carpets  of  green, 
And  streamlets  enchanting  meander  between  ; 
..\nd  forests  majestic,  and  vinc-trelliscd  bowers. 
Fringe  glens  as  of  Eden,  all  brilliant  with  flowers, 
With  roses  and  daisies,  and  pale  elcnore, 
Whose  nectar  the  honey-bees  gather  in  store 
Fur  banquets  of  gods  when  the  summer  is  o'er. 


There  finny  forms  sparkle  likt  gems  in  the  rills, 
And  elk  with  broad  antlers  proud  stalk  o'er  the  hills; 
The  goat  and  the  big-horn  liigh  trail  in  the  snow. 
The  deer  and  the  bison  in  green  vales  below  ; 
""^The  black  eagle  soars  round  the  pinnacle  high 
Till  a  wiki  lamb  jierceiving,  as  a  bolt  from  the  sky, 
In  his  talons  quick  bears  him  for  a  feast  in  the  glade, 
40 


Jai 


I 


THE   GOIUJN^LAND.  41 

Near  the  lion  low  crouching,  wliose  dinner  is  made 
Of  victor  and  victim,  in  tanglowood  shade. 

In  broad  slimy  marshes  leviathans  roar, 

And  mermaids  are  combing  tiieir  locks  by  the  shore; 

Full  deep  in  green  waters  the  coral  reefs  form, 

Till  ]xdm-shade(l  islets  defy  the  wild  storm  ; 

And  sharks,  ever  famished  and  eager  for  prey, 

Devour  with  their  victims  the  monsters  who  slay  ; 

While  o'er  the  broad  ocean  the  albatross  sails, 

'Mid  i)orpoise  and  dolphins  and  loud-s[)Outing  whales. 

And  sea-birds,  foam-skimming,  exult  in  the  gales. 

"'Then  man,  hairy  giant,  strode  forth  in  his  might, 

Erect  like  his  Maker,  with  knowledge  of  right ; 

Inventor  of  weapons,  first  builder  of  fire. 

Lone  trader  of  trophies,  with  soul  to  soar  higher ; 

Loir. -girded,  else  naked,  majestic  in  form, 

With  mate  and  their  offspring  cave-sheltered  from  storm; 

Terrific  his  combats  with  lion  and  bear. 

For  food  and  for  shelter,  in  glen  or  in  lair; 

But  tusk,  claw,  and  talons,  and  instincts  are  vain 

'Gainst  man  and  his  weapons,  on  ocean  or  plain  ; 

For  man,  as  his  birthright,  was  destined  to  reign. 

Ages  on  ages  have  circled  and  fled. 
And  countless  the  heroes  who  sleep  with  the  dead ; 
Earth  teems  with  the  millions  unnumbered  of  men  ; 
Fish,  beasts,  birds,  and  reptiles  crowd  sea,  sky,  and  glen ; 
But  man  is  polluted,  and  woman  is  vile. 
With  beasts,  birds,  and  serpents  commingling  in  guile  ; 
And  monsters  all  .hideous,  in  form  and  in  lust. 
Stalk  forth  in  the  forests,  or  crawl  in  the  dust, — 
Earth  is  ripe  for  God's  vengeance  of  fire  'neath  its  crus.. 

4* 


I 


42 


7//A'    Coni.lX-LAi\D. 


i  I 


As  cveniny;'s  low  murnmrs  from  storni-cloiid  afiir 

Grow  loiulcr,  till  ihuiulcr  the  heavens  ajar, 

So  moanings,  halt-smothered,  in  womb  of  the  Karth, 

In  wailing  and  trembling,  like  travail  of  birth, 

V  row  louder  and  fiercer,  till  the  thin  crust  is  rent, 

And  lava  all  seething  in  biIK)\vs  finds  vent. 

In  vain  guilty  mortals  their  revels  bewail  ; 

Too  late, — prayers  for  mercy  are  waft  on  the  gale  ; 

Unheeded  the  howling  of  monsters  in  pain  , 

God's  vengeance,  outpouring,  rolls  over  the  plain  ! 

Like  harlots  of  Sodom,  all  revelled  in  sin, 

Gomorrahs  of  brimstone  are  walling  them  in  ; 

Commingled  in  matrix  of  slime,  which  encase 

3° Men,    mermaids,    and    monsters,    each    sphinx-like    in 

])lace. 
And   mountains   nurlcd  o'er  them,   from   Heaven   hides 

trace. 


Unnumbered  the  circles  of  s>...i  and  of  stars; 
Terrific  the  earthquakes,  and  fearful  their  scars; 
Anil  tempests,  fierce  howling,  of  hail  and  of  snow, 
And  frosts,  all  eroding,  hurl  fragments  below, 
Unearthing  each  monster,  each  reptile  and  beast. 
Nude  vixen  and  warrior  gigantic,  at  feast, 
Where  guests  are  stone-visaged,  all  lifeless  and  cold  ; 
Side-dishes,  shell-fossils,  as  glistening  as  gold, 
And  viands,  charred  remnants  of  comrades  of  old. 


•T" 


I 


\ 


'  i" 


Still  deeper  eroded  the  labyrinths  grow, 

And  taller  the  Goblins,  with  helmets  of  snow. 

Proud  o'er  them  the  eagle,  with  undazzled  eye. 

Scans  sheep  on  the  snow-fields,  then  swoops  from  the  sky; 

The  goat  and  the  big-horn  there  covert  oft  finds 

In  archways  of  grottos,  where  the  moaning  of  winds 


f 


111 


"«•' 

■."f 


/ 


'       ,»■     •^•,«»-»»„ 


"'V'Mlii,'''^;' ;.   I-"'^.'  ■?■  ^•'  ;'•'  ■  ^  '"-©aw* ■•?■  •?'i^^''--'-       -i-". 


V,i:'."\ 


THK   (X)lil.lN"    I.AKVKIN  TILS. 


m 


44 


7y/A"    GOliLJN-LAND, 


Are  requiems  chanting,  sliarp,  changing,  and  low, 
Of  Hoodoos  unearthly  'mid  the  lava's  o'erflow. 
3' And  men  of  the  mountains,  of  Sheoi)-Kater  band, 
Of  game  and  of  plunder  make  sacrifice  grand 
To  monster  stone-gods  in  tlic  weird  "  (Joblin-Land." 


i  \\ 


THI-:   MYSriC   J.ARl':   ok    WONDER-LAND. 


I  SING  of  lake,  of  rippling  rills, 
Of  sunny  streams  from  snowy  hills  ; 
()f  hissing  pools  with  sulphur  tide, 
In  gulches  deeper  far  than  wide  ; 
Of  foaming  falls  in  canon  grand. 
The  M-ystic  Lake  of  Wonder-Land. 

For  here,  begirt  with  mountain-chains, 
Snow-clad  mist-clouds  hide  grassy  plains; 
'Mid  terraced  slopes,  pine-clad  and  green, 
Reflected  bright  on  emerald  sheen, 
Of  bosom  thine,  'neath  turret  high, 
Bright-blending  water,  earth,  and  sky. 

Thus  seen  in  quiet  summer's  eve, 
Eden  it  seems  with  naught  to  grieve; 
But  howling  storms  and  piercing  wails 
Come  with  autumnal  frosts  and  gales ; 
3^  And  chilling  blasts  resistless  come 
Adown  thy  fingers,  palm,  and  thumb. 

Oh,  have  I  not  in  trying  hour, 
Li  craft  too  frail  bewailed  thy  power? 
With  bending  mast  and  rending  sail, 
And  dashing  wave  o'er  icy  rail. 
And  foaming  surf  on  rocky  strand, 
To  shores  of  ice  on  mystic  hand  ? 

45 


46        THE   MYSTIC  LAKE    OF   H'OXDERLAS^D. 

Oil,  niglit  of  horrors!  on  tluit  shore, 

Wlicn  fire  and  surf  discordant  roar, 

And  timber,  Icnipcst-rcfl  and  rove, 

Hurled  all  ablaze  up  terraced  grove, 

And  sparks,  and  snow,  and  smoke,  and  sleet 

In  angry  circles  waltzing  meet, 

"  No  tent  can  stand,  no  blanket  save 
From  biting  blasts  that  round  us  rave  ; 
With  sleepless  eyes,  compelled  to  turn, — 
One  side  to  freeze,  the  other  burn, — 
We  sigh  for  prayers  of  friends  aflir. 
And  long  for  laggard  morning-star. 


The  storm  is  past,  and  azure  skies 
The  orb  of  morn  greet  at  its  rise ; 
Soon  warming  rays  dispel  the  gloom 
That  o'er  our  senses  hung  like  doom, 
And  joyous  hopes  and  buoyant  tread 
Gild  halos  bright  o'er  horrors  fled. 

Meanwhile,  at  dawn,  on  sullen  shore. 
With  gravel  filled  and  frozen  o'er. 
Our  bark  we  found  thus  saved  from  wreck, 
Keel-crushed,  but  firm  her  sides  and  deck ; 
And  quick,  with  tools  and  comrades  true, 
In  surf  the  frozen  cobbles  threw. 


s 


m 


Her  hold  we  bailed  with  battered  pail. 
Her  keel  repaired,  unfurled  her  sail ; 
Our  light  stores  shipped  and  rifles  true, 
Our  rations  short,  and  daring  crew : 
And,  thankful  for  such  lovely  day. 
With  gentle  breeze  sailed  up  the  bay. 


"1 


1     i. 


THE  MYSl'IC  LAKE    OE    ll'OXDERl.AXD. 

IJiil  time  were  short  to  here  relate 
Our  voyage  o'er  finger,  thumb,  or  strait  ; 
Round  (lull mi ng  isle,  o'er  mystic  hand, 
'I'o  Indian  cove,  and  thankful  land, — 
Then  on(-e  again  our  steeds  bestride. 
And  proudly  o'er  the  meadows  ride. 

And  lierc  by  lonely  rill  I  find — 

Sad  trace  of  race  to  pale-face  kind, 

But  feeble,  few,  and  shy  of  men — 

A  vvick-e-up  of  brush  in  glen. 

And  (blanket-robed  for  want  of  grave), 

T.ast  of  his  band,  "Sheep-Eater"  brave. 

And  now  I  pause  and  sadly  think 
Of  cruel  scenes  ne'er  traced  in  ink  ; 
Of  kindly  words  and  acts  of  those 
We  curse  and  treat  as  savage  foes, 
^'♦Yet  practice  crimes  that  dark  disgrace 
Our  Christian  creed  and  bearded  race. 

Thus  pensive,  wandering  o'er  the  strand, 
35  Vases  and  urns  from  nature's  hand, 
Saucers  and  cups  from  hidden  graves, 
1  see  come  rolling  with  the  waves, 
And  marvel  how  a  cause  unknown 
Could  fashion  neat  such  forms  of  stone  ! 


47 


Again,  I  view  along  the  shore 
Hot  rills  from  hissing  geysers  pour, 
3^  And  finny  forms  beneath  the  wave 
For  angler's    ait  hot  current  brave, 
To  find,  alas  !  like  human  fool, 
A  barb  concealed  and  seething  pool. 


»  . 


48        7///^   MYSI/C  LAKE    OT   UOXDER-LAXD, 

Again,  a  rill  from  tnclting  snows 
Adown  thy  turfy  terrace  Hows, 
'I'o  foam  in  sulphur  pool  as  hot 
As  So(l(MU*s  slime  in  days  of  Lot  ! 
'^And  thence  from  nauset)us  hissing  rill 
Sweet  llow'ry  vale  with  poisons  fill. 

^''And  islands  thine,  rock-ribbed  and  high, 
With  snowy  crests  amid  the  sky  : 
Inverted,  mirrored  'nealh  the  waves, 
Seem  isles  to  greet  'mid  islands*  graves; 
And  sylvan  forms  in  fossil  groves, 
With  vanished  fi  lends  renew  their  loves. 

Amid  the  mists  of  years  to  come, 
With  bunting,  viol,  harj),  and  drum, 
Sliall  steamer  proudly  on  her  way, 
Or  safely  moored  in  cove  or  bay, 
IJear  artist,  poet,  priest,  and  seer, 
Anil  ladies,  ever  smiling  near. 


And  will  they  know  or  care  for  those 

Who  coasted  capes  through  mists  and  snows? 

Or  j)ressed  proud  mountain-i)eaks  to  scale, 

In  summer  storms  or  winter's  gale? 

And  unknown  islands  wisely  chose 

As  safe  retreat  from  savage  foes  ? 

And  oft,  perchance,  on  island  here, 
With  panther's  tread  pursued  the  deer 
Or  big-horn  on  the  crests  of  snow. 
Or  grizzlies  in  the  glens  below, — 
3^ For  food  their  flesh,  for  hunting-shirt. 
Their  vacant  coat  with  belt  begirt? 


7///;   MYS'JIC   I. AM'.    OF    UO.\/)/:k'./.,tX/K 

Alul  will  they  dream  tliat  garb  so  wild 
Screened  men  of  worth,  refined  and  mild? 
With  sense  to  feel,  with  souls  to  love, 
A  lion's  courage,  hearts  of  dove, 
Whose  i)lans  of  life,  if  understood, 
Were  "suffer  self  for  others'  good"  ? 


49 


My  voy:ige  is  o'er,  its  duties  done, 
This  crystal  shore  my  praise  has  won  ; 
In  other  lands  be  mine  to  meet 
Sucii  golden  sands  and  islands  sweet, 
And  free  from  i)elting  storms  of  snow, 
Ne'er  scorching  j)its  of  sulphur  know  ! 
A  long  farewell, — I  leave  thy  strand, — 
Oh,  "Mystic  Lake"  of  "Wonder-Land!" 


1  • 


TIIK    FAITIIFI  I,    L()VI:KS. 

In  a  smiling  eastern  valley,  where  the  zephyrs  dance  and 
daliv, 
Dwelt  a  maiden  fair  and  blooming,  and  a  yeoman  tall 
and  bold  ; 
'lender  were  the  tears  of  parting  of  these  lovers  at  his 
starting 
O'er  the  prairies  and  the  coteaus,  \\\  his  pilgrimage  for 
gold. 

For  she  dwells  in  halls  of  splenilor,  where  the  heirs  of 
wealth  attend  her, 
And   her  mother,   sire,   and   brother   seek   with   tiiem 
alliance  grand  ; 
IJnt  her  plighted  troth  is  given,  pure,  and  registered   in 
heaven. 
That  her  lover,  heir  of  labor,  she'll  await  from  golden 
land. 

"Love,"  he   lisps,  with  eyelids  quivering,   **  cease,  oh, 
cease  thy  fefirs  and  grieving  ; 
Hope  will  sweeten   toil  and   danger  of  thy  lover  far 
away ; 
Who,  with  glittering  gems  the  rarest,  and  of  mountain 
flowers  the  fairest, 
Bright  will  render  this  thy  chamber,  as  for  him  thou 
kncel'st  to  pray." 
50 


L, 


Tiir.  I'MTiira.  i.oveks. 


9> 


In  ;i  vale  of  crystal    founlains,  deep   ;imi«l    llio    snowy 
tuountains, 
Dwelt  this  toiler  of  the  [jlacer  and  this  trailer  of  the 
doer ; 
And,  allhon^h  the  painted  savage  ever  lurked  to  slay  and 
ravage, 
Still  tiiis  ranger  braved   the  danger  with  a  soul  that 
scoffed  at  fear. 

For  tlu'  nu)untain  zephyrs  laden  whisper  cheering  wor»ls 
of  maiden  : 
"  In  my  bosom  ever  loving  dwell  thy  gems,  an<l  in  my 
hair 
Cluster   wreaths  of   brilliant    flowers,   gathered    in    thy 
njountain  bowers, 
And  at  even  soars  to  heaven,  for  thy  safety,   fervent 
prayer." 

Yet  the  wintry  storms  are  dreary,  and  tho  trusting  heart 
grows  weary. 
When  in  waning  moons  no  tidings  thrill  that  loving 
breast  so  pure ; 
And  within  her  home  of  splendor  pride  and  l^ishion  still 
attend  her. 
And  a  courtly  suitor  wealthy  seeks  that  love-lorn  heart 
to  cure. 

Then  from  far-off  lands  came  tidings  of  terrific  war  and 
fightings, 
By  the  fountains  of  the  mountains,  where  tlie  daring 
miners  dwell ; 
Doleful  darkline  pages  filling  scenes  of  death  and  valor 
thrilling, 
And  a  yeoman,  slaughtering  foeman,  last  and  noblest 
of  them,  fell. 


$9 


7///;   I A  mil' VI.    LOVEKS. 


;« 


Not    III  wonh  iiiuimi'ly  spokon,  but  willi   loving  heart* 
MtriiJj;s  broken, 
Pales  the  iniijlen's  cheeks  so  hlootnlnj^,  ami   in  ago- 
nizing moan, 
Ileeiling   nt)t   the  gnosts  of  splendor,    nor  lier   friends' 
ronsolings  tender, 
Faintly   liirohbing,  sinking   sobbing,  bursts    her   cry, 
"Alone  I  alone!" 

Days  are  come  and   nights  are  banished,  moons  have 
waxeil,  and  waned,  an<l  vanished, 
When  a  spectre  from  that  <  h  iinbcr,  pale  and  trembling, 
thin  and  wan, 
On  the  arm  of  loving  mother,  and  beside  a  tender  brother, 
Slow,  but  eager,  seeks  tiie  parlor,  all  to  greet  her  lover 
gone. 

"Comes  he  not?"  she  sighs  in  anguish  ;   "  for  his  greet- 
ing ( lasp  I  languish." 
"Oh,  my  Charlie,  waits  your   Laurie,   with   the  gems 
you  sent  afar. 
Dwell    you    still   beside   the    fountains,   toiling  'mid   the 
snowy  mountains? 
Here  I'll  meet  you,  soon  I'll  greet  you,  or  I'll  wander 
where  you  are." 

Lost  were  all   their  arts  of  cheering,  kindly  words  and 
acts  endearing  ; 
Only  lover,  daring  rover,  would  her  wandering  dreams 
reveal ; 
All  his  bold,  unselfish  daring,  all  its  fruits  with  Laurie 
sharing, 
And   her  cheering   his  appearing,  could  her  clouded 
senses  feel. 


'I  III:  !•  Mill  I'd.  i.on:h\s. 


5S 


Kulcs  the  fever,  slowly  biir!\iiig,  tingetl  iho  cl»eek  with 
lualth  ri'liirnit)^, 
And  her  vision,  (omjiitring  reason,  on  its  throne  is 
crowned  again  ; 
When  the  vesper  <  hiines  are  pealing,  faintly  through  the 
twilight  stealing, 
Came  the  story  and  the  glory  of  her  ilaruig  lover  nlain, 

Slowly  rallying,  health  regaining,  soon,  alas!   with  hectic 
waning, 
I'rove  the  riven  dart  was  driven  to  its  feather  in  her 
sold  ; 
And   the  lli(  kering  hope  remaining  of  its  earthly  hope 
retaining 
Was  a  jotnney  to  some  valley  wlnre  the  western  billows 
roll. 

Needless  tale  of  prcjiaration,  nameless  vale  of  destination, 
r'aithfid  brother,  would-be  lover,  [)ress  their  wealth  and 
tenderest  care  ; 
Zephyrs   froui   the    prairie   blooming,    lake   of  brine  or 
mountain  loonung, 
Hope  sustaining,  health   regaining,   till   they   reach   a 
valley  fair. 


TJy  a  rill   at  cvc  reclining,   'neath   the  blooming   roses 
twining, 
T.owly  kneeling,  love  api)ealing,  comes  the  youth,  the 
brother's  friend. 
**  Hist!"  she  cries,  "these  stars  in  heaven  witnessed  my 
betrothal  given  ; 
Only  Charlie  will  I  marry,  till  life's  pilgrimage  shall 
end." 


54 


TIIK   J  A  nil  I'LL    /A)J7':A'S. 


Vain  his  tears,  his  i)raycrs  and   si^^hing;   few,  but  firm, 
her  words  replying  : 
"  While  on  earth,  or  yet  in  heaven,  liis  alone  my  life 
remains." 
Rifles  ringi.ig,  bullets  singing,  sudden  death  and  terror 
bringing; 
Lover    falling — sight    a[)palling  ! — spouting    gore   her 
beauty  stains. 

Shrill  the  war-whcop  thrills  the  valley;  sharp  the  escort's 
answering  rally ; 
Steeds  are  dashing,  sabres   flashing,   friends  and  foes 
commingled  fall  ; 
Lasso  whirling,  cr'el  slaying,  blood-streams  o'er  the  roses 
playing,— 
Daring  brother,  wounded  lover,   cheer   the  remnants, 
few  and  small. 

Hand   to  hand  they  thrust  and  parry,  and  the  fainting 
maiden  carry 
To  adobe  hovel  lowly  ;  but  the  foe  is  there  before. 
Soon  the  swinging  hatchet  reeking,  gleaming  knife  the 
trophies  seeking, 
Demon  yelling,  scalp-lock  swelling,  witness  grim  the 
fight  is  o'er. 

Hark  !  as  sv/oop  of  eagles  screaming,  dashing  steeds  and 
sabres  gleaming, 
"  RaUy  1  rally  !"  shouts  in  valley,  down  the  savage  ride 
and  thrust ; 
First  a  plumed  and  stalwart  range,   charging  grandly, 
scorn irg  danger. 
Warriors  meeting,  chieftain  seeking,  plume  ii.id  bonnet 
kiss  the  dust. 


THE  FAITIII'UL   LOVERS. 


55 


Savage,   ere   his   safety  seeking,   carves    from   slain    the 
troi^hy  reeking ; 
Gory  chieftain,  clasping  maiden,—''  Mine,"  he  cries, 
"  this  golden  hair  !" 
Hatchet  arm  by  blade  is  riven,  and  in  breast  to  hilt  is 
driven, 
JJy  the  stranger  belted  ranger,  whose  arm  sustains  the 
sinking  fair. 


Heeds  he  not  the  dying  rattle,  savage  chief,  or  shout  of 
battle. 
Only  seeing  maiden  clinging  to  his  breast  for  refuge 
givei. 
Beaming  eyes  again  are  meeting,  loving  lips  again  are 
greeting,— 
"Oh,    my   Charlie!" — "Darling    Laurie!" — met   on 
eartH  instead  of  heaven. 


Oh,  that  stalwart  brave  is  quivering,  and  in  Laurie's  arms 
is  sinking, 
For  an   arrow  to   its    feather,   vile,    has    pierced    that 
manly  form. 
"Laurie,  love,  we've  met  and  parted,"  faint  he  whispers; 
broken-hearted, 
Courage-nerving,    maiden    loviiv^    stanches    crimson 
spouting  warm. 


Painted  brave,  from  hidden  cover,  leaps  to  slay  the  sink- 
ing lover ; 
All  in  horror,  as  the  warrior  comes,  with  bright  and 
deadly  blade, 


S6 


Tin:    I'AIIIULl.    I.OIERS. 


In  lier  robes  of  maiden,  loving,  glares  she  as  a  A'arrior 
daring  j 
On  he  dashes — pistol  flashes — chieftain  at  her  feet  is 

laid  ! 


I 


' 


..    r;.  T^  ^  ••.<tTr«r*"L:..   .    ,t      w, .    -  "y 


■  '<iX 


TIIK    DARING    MAIDEN. 


Quick  she  rends  the  shirt  of  leather,  quick  withdraws  the 
cruel  feather, — 
"  Tis  your  Laurie,  oh,  my  Charlie!" — on  his  lips  her 
kisses  pours  ; 
Then   with   silken   bandage   holy,  through   the  rents   of 
buckskin  lowly, 
Checks  the  eboing  tide  of  crimson,  and   the  sinkinj. 
life  restores. 


IL. 


THE  FAIIIIFUL   LOVERS. 


57 


When  the  bloody  fray  was  over,  and  the  dead  they  needs 
must  cover, 
Found  the  brother  dead,  but  lover,  scalped  and  gory, 
lingering  slill : 
**  Die  I  cannot  ere  confessing  crime  my  guilty  soul  dis- 
tressing,— 
Listen,  Charlie!   pardon,  Laurie!"   thus  his  moaning 
accents  thrill. 

"Laurie,  when    I  watched   thy  chamber,  missive  came 
from  mountain  ranger; 
I,  in  envy,  love,  and  frenzy,  took  and  bore  it  to  my 
room  ; 
Well  I  knew  the  manly  writing  proof  he  lived,  and  hence 
the  blighting 
Of  my  planning,  guile,  and   cunning,  and  defeat  my 
certain  doom. 

**  Villain  I  then  I  read  the  story  of  his  daring  deeds  and 
gl(  ry  : 
How    the  savage  slay  and   rn^nge,  how   from  gaping 
wounds  he  fell  \ 
But  amidst  the  yells  appalling  \\i  escaped  by  crafty  crawl- 
ing; 
Hence  these  thrilling  pages  filling  to  the  maiden  loved 
so  well. 

''Then  with   love  and  envy  swelling,  perjured  ooul  to 
Satan  selling, 
I  as  brother  kind  and  tender  told  in  strains  of  fondest 
love 
Tale   of  sickness  short   and  trying,    Laurie's   love,  and 
peaceful  dying. 
And  to  lover  message  tender  that  in  bliss  they'd  meet 
above. 


58 


THE  FA /Til JUL    LOVKKS. 


n 


"From   that   hour   I  writlicil   in   torture,  with  grinning 
•  fiends  will  be  my  future, 

Unforgiven,  cursed  of  heaven  !"  words  iiis  last  amidst 
his  groans  ; 
Startled  lovers,  backward  scanning,  see  the  web  of  demons 
planning, 
And,  forgiving,  leave  the  erring  with  the  God  who  sin 
atones. 

Days  have  come  and  weeks  are  ended,  r.ioons  have  v/aned 
and  years  have  blended  ; 
In  a  valley  pilgrims  dally,  'mid  the  field  of  love  and 
Rore, 
On  a  marble  shaft  ascending  names  of  fallen  ones  are 
blending ; 
Fading   echoes    from    the   vespers   thrill    the   tendrils 
twining  o'er. 

And  a  stately  mansion    looming,  in   that  vale  of  roses 
blooming, 
Chariots    mowing,    vintage    flowing,    o'er    uncoimted 
leagues  of  land, 
While  a  matron  bland  and  comely     iid  a  statesman  grand 
and  courtly, 
With    their   children    tall    and    blooming,  greet    their 
guests  with  welcome  grand. 

Painting,  bright  as  wealth   can   render,  portray  in    that 
hall  of  sjjlendor 
Belted  yeoman  facing  foeman,  hatchet  raised  in  deadly 
strife  ; 
Tall  and  lovely  maiden  clinging,  'neath  a  reeking  hatchet 
swinging 
O'er   her  brother,  to  her  lover   Heaven's    .engeance 
guides  his  knife  ! 


THE   lAlTIIFUl.    LOVERS, 


59 


And  upon  the  lofty  ceiling,  painted  with  historic  feeling, 
Gory  (liieftiiin,  lovely  maiden,  wounded   ranger  faint 
between 

Chief,  from  pistol-muzzle  reeling,  maiden  o'er  her  lover 
kneeling, 
Crimson  stanching,  withcut  blanching,  real  as  in  life 
are  seen. 


GALLANT   CHARLEY    RKYNOLDS. 

^"Once  the  chosen  scout  of  Stanley, 

Often  Ludlow's  mountain  guide, 
Then  with  nie  erst  true  and  manly, — 

Thou  who  with  our  Custer  ilied  1 
Over  all  the  Big-horn  Mountains, 

And  beside  the  coteau's  cone, 
'Mid  Missouri's  geyser  fountains, 

And  along  the  Yellowstone. 

Kind  and  cheerful  was  thy  bearing, 

Firm  and  martial  was  thy  tread  ; 
First  amongst  the  brave  and  daring 

Art  thou  numbered  with  the  dead. 
Bravely  thou,  with  Reno  valiant, 

And  with  crafty  Bloody-Knife, 
In  the  front  of  charge  most  gallant. 

O'er  the  ford  of  bloody  strife. 


60 


Fearless  when  thy  steed  was  falling, 

Hatchet  hewn,  and  pierced  by  lance  ; 
'Mid  the  flood  and  foe  appalling, 

Demon-like  was  thy  advance  ! 
Pistol  puff  and  ring  of  rifle. 

Flashing  knife  and  hatchet  gleam  ; 
Reeking  scalp  and  sinking  stifle. 

Dying  yell  in  dashing  stream  ! 


GALLAXr  CllAHLEV  REYNOLDS. 

(Iluistly  strewing  last  around  tlicc 

Painted  braves  and  plumes  of  lliose 
Thy  carbine  slauglitered,  still  surround  thee 

Circling  hordes  of  yelling  foes. 
All  in  vain  were  deeds  of  daring, 

All  too  swift  and  sad  thy  doom  ! 
Earth's  last  view  was  savage  glaring, — 

The  encrimsoned  stream  thy  tomb  I 


61 


Stricken  in  thy  youth  and  beauty, 

Sadly  stricken  ere  thy  prime  ; 
Fallen  at  the  ford  of  duty, 

Lo  !  an  h-^nored  name  is  tliine  ! 
Charley  :   may  the  foe  who  slew  thco 

Ever  bear  a  tainted  name  \ 
Reynolds  !  all  the  friends  who  knew  ihee 

Shall  award  thee  lofty  fame  ! 


Peaceful  home  has  me  delivered 

From  the  fate  that  war  attends ; 
Desert  flowers  have  bloomed  and  withered 

O'er  the  bones  of  mountain  friends- 
Sternly  fate — not  of  our  choosing — 

Severs  us  forever  here  ; 
Sadly  thus,  with  memory  musing, 

Darkly  fades  the  fated  year  I 


Other  friends  along  that  river 
Fought  and  fell  to  rise  no  more, 

Yielding  their  souls  to  God,  the  Giver, 
When  the  deadly  strife  was  o'er; 

6 


6t  HA  1. 1.  AM    CllAKI.EY  KI'AXOl.DS, 

When  along  the  Yellowstone 
Peace  and  happiness  shall  reign 

O'er  gory  fields  both  lost  and  won, 
None  shall  say  they  died  in  vain. 

Can  daring  deeds  of  human  hand 

Save  the  soul  beyond  the  grave? 
And  are  there  in  that  spirit-land 

Mansions  for  the  true  and  brave? 
Oh,  God  of  justice,  but  of  love, 

Judge  them  by  their  deeds  and  light  I 
And  in  thy  blissful  home  above 

Grant  them  garlands  at  thy  right  ! 


♦■PIl-C.RIMS   OF   THE   YKLI^OWSTONK. 

A  15AND  of  modern  pilgrims  went  prospecting  for  goUl, 
And  rode  or  drove  their  liorses  as  in  the  days  of  ohi  ; 
The  Mississippi  and  Missouri  ol)stru(t  tlicir  path  in  vain, 
And  they  pioneer'd  the  railway  in  roving  o'er  the  plain. 

The  Platte  they  left  at  Laramie,  with  visions  bright  of 

mines 
Amid  the  liig-horn  Mountains  or  gulches  dark  with  pines, 
And  placers  in  the  caOons,  or  charming  hills  and  dales, 
For  peaceful  homes  of  plenty  amid  the  fertile  vales. 

Then  'long  the  beauteous  coteau,  rolling  like  the  waves, 
'Mid  bison,  elk,  and  antelojjc,  and,  often,  Indian  braves; 
The  first  they  chased  to  slaughter,  the  latter  chased  to 

slay : 
Sometimes  they  were  pursuers,  but  oft  pursued  were  they. 


Through  ever-changing  fortune,  with  caution,  dash,  and 

arms, 
They  passed   the   Cacti's  Desert  and  the  Indian's  fierce 

alarms ; 
Then  mountain  above  terrace  beside  their  trail  arose, — 
In  the  last  a  rocky  canon,  on  the  first  eternal  snows. 

Fountains,  bright   sunny  fountains,  dispel   their   thirsty 

fears  ; 
Mountains,  oh,  snowy  mountains,  loud   they  greet  with 

cheers  ! 

63 


64 


PILCKIMS  OF   THE    YEI  lOWSTOXF.. 


Time,  toil,  ami  patience  coiuiucr,  aiul  iVoin   tlic  frozen 

crest, 
Dcej)  'micl  the  Uivu  mountains,  lliey  view  a  park  of  rest. 

C\(1ar-l)()r(lcrtMl  rivulets  (!cs<  ended  from  the  snow, 
Roamed  countless  on  the  pa«ni)as  the  shaggy  bufTalo  ; 
O'er    all,    in    autumn's    beauty,    the    mellow   sunbeams 

shone, — 
A  matchless  vale  of  verdure  along  the  Yellowstone  I 

With  game-trout  teemed   the  waters,  all   bounteous  the 

soil, 
Gold-dust  in  the  placers,  awaiting  only  toil 
Of  fimiished  eastern  labor,  the  thrifty  and  the  bold. 
To  rear  their  rugged  cabins  and  garner  up  the  gold. 

Kager  adown  the  mountain,  lured  by  the  brilliant  sheen 
Of  gushing  valley-fountain,  begirt  with  emerald  green  : 
"Oh,  liere's  the  happy  valley,  this  is  tiie  lovely  West  ; 
Here  we  no  longer  dally,  but  buiUl  us  homes  of  rest  !" 

But  since  Adam  sinned  in  Eden,  and  Eve  to  hide  their 

shame 
Of  fig-leaves  made  them  aprons,  earth  has  ever  been  the 

same : 
The   vales   of  blooming  roses   are   beset  with    piercing 

thorns. 
And  death  is  ever  garnering  what  beauty  most  adorns. 

Thus  to  our  weary  pilgrims  peaceful  the  valley  seems  : 
Glowing  are  their  camp-fires,  sweet  their  golden  dreams; 
When  shrill  the  war-whooj)  echoes  '  sharp  the  rifle  rings  I 
Cruel  pierce  the  arrows,  high  the  hatchet  swings  ! 


I 


n/AiK/MS   Oh    nil:     Vl.l.l.OWSTONE.  65 

Vainly  rouse  tlio  startled  sloi'pcrs  !  swift  a  circ  ling  j{UMtn 
Of  scalpii^j-kiiifc  (Icscciidiiij^',  and  llu-n  the  d)inj;  scri'Uiu  ! 
(^)iii<  k  wM'iu  lu'd  is  rtrkin^'  trophy, — soon  aniid  tho  (^lootn 
Coyote  ficrcf  and  famished  gi..nt  the  ^oiy  dead  a  tonib. 

From  lluit  sickening  scone  of  horror  one  alone  e'er  reat  lud 

his  home, 
Thence  from  rural  peace  and  comfort  naught  again  can 

bid  him  roam  ; 
'Mid  tales  of  gold  in   Hiack  Hills  or  along  the  Rosebud 

vale 
Ghosts  arise  of  friends  in  "  l>ad  Lauds,"  and  of  gore  along 

the  trail. 

Mothers  dear  and  sweethearts  loving  awaited  their  return 

in  vain  ; 
Drear  the  homes  and  sad  the  kindred  they'll  revisit  ne'er 

again  ; 
Long  and  vain  for  absent  loved  ones  were  their  kindred's 

sighs  and  moans, — 
Painted    braves   and    dusky  maidens   alike   deride  their 

bleaching  bones. 


But  the  fearful  fate  of  Custer  on  the  fated  Litlh    Llorn 
All  too  late  aroused  our  jjcople  to  uproot  the  Rosebud 

thorn  ;*  » 

In  the  coming  tramps  and  battles  fallen  friends  shall  we 

bemoan, 
liut  no   peace  shall  greet   the  Sioux  ere  they  leave  the 

Yellowstone. 


*  "  Rosebud  thorn,"  SitUng  Bull.  A  Koscbud,  or  Un-cii-pai)-i)a,  Sioux 
chief. 

e  6* 


66 


r/fAiK/Ms  or  nil':  y/iiJ.oiisroxE. 


ThcM   lu'sidc   the  desert   roteau   ami  tlie  <  rimsoii   Little 

Horn, 
As  alon^  the  Mystic  River  of  the  spouting  {;tyser  born, 
Miners  wealth  in   peace  shall   gather   from   the   placer's 

golden  sand, 
Pilgrims  hoallii  in  joy  shall  garner  in  the  lofty  *•  Wonder- 

Land." 


t  1 


;!i  • 


I 


lie 


r's 


capi'ivl:  maiden. 

^'Ri.sK,  my  miisc,  sing  of  a  maiden 
CaiUive  on  the  coteaii  wild  ; 
Not  with  i-olden  ringU-ts  laden, 
Ihil  trchbcs  raven,  Nature's  child. 

From  the  camp  of  slaughtered  Cheyenne, 
Near  the  crimson  Custer  plain, 

i^ode  she  to  the  border  stockade, 
VVeei)ing  in  the  captive  train. 

Long  she  looked  and  sighed  for  lover. 
Chieftain  of  a  mountain  band, 

First  in  flight,  and  last  to  hcner 
On  trail  of  foe  in  native  land. 

T3ut  her  longing  eyes  grew  weary, 
And  her  loving  heart  grew  faint, 

In  a  prison,  chill  and  dreary. 
Child  of  freedom  in  restraint. 


When  her  kindred  yield  to  capture, 
Weary  of  the  scourge  of  war, 

Glows  her  cheek  and  form  with  rai)lure 
At  chieftain's  totem  from  afiir. 


67 


T 


ii 


C8 


I 


CAPTIVE    MA  in  UN. 

Proud  he  stood  amid  the  warriors, 

In  the  glare  of  council  fire  ; 
"First,"  (juoth  he,  "  release  my  maiden, 

Or  you  shall  feel  luy  ire. 

**  I,  of  mountain  clan  the  chieftain, 

I  in  freedom  chose  a  mate  : 
Only  free  she'll  wed  War-Eagle, 

Be  it  life  or  death,  my  fate." 


»1 


if 


1 


"Trail  your  totem,  yield  your  pinto, 

Quick  disarm  your  warriors  all  ; 
"Mine  be  teepee,"  says  the  pale-face, 
"  And  upon  our  mercy  call." 

"This,"  quoth  the  chief,  "  to  me,  a  warrior? 

I  disarm  ? — be  squaw  and  slave  ? — 
Teepee  for  friend,  for  foeman  hatchet, — 

From  his  war-horse  dies  the  brave." 

V/ar-whoop  shrill,  and  mounted  warriors, 
Lance  and  plume,  bedeck  the  plain  ; 

Fierce  the  onset,  long  the  struggle. 
The  maid  to  save, — alas  !   ih  vain. 


i?i  \ 


Saw  the  morning  carnage  ghastly, — 
Gory  harvest  on  the  i)lain  ; 

Blanket-strewed  and  bullet-furrowed. 
Desert  moistened,  not  by  rain. 

Gone  the  chieftain,  gone  the  remnant 
Of  his  warriors,  fliint  and  kw ; 

In  court  of  prison  slept  the  maiden, — 
Moist  her  tre.;ses,  not  with  dew. 


CAPTIVE   MAIDEN. 

Vain  had  been  her  pray'r  for  Ireedom ; 

Guard  and  bay'net  barr'd  the  door: 
"  This  will  open  gate  to  prison, — 

MouUler  clay  and  spirit  soar." 

Thus  she  speaks  ;  then,  tall  and  stately, 
Bares  her  bosom,  looks  above  : 

"God  of  red-man, — oh,  Man-i-tou  ! 
Thus  I  come,  a  bride  of  love." 


69 


Qm'ck  as  swoop  of  mountain-eagle 
Heart  is  pierced  by  blade  in  hand  ; 

Marks  the  rill  of  gushing  crimson, 
Freedom's  trail  to  Si)irit-land. 


TUK  wondi<:r-land. 


ill 


Ho,  ye  pilgrims,  seeking  pleasure, 

Or  for  health  in  vain, 
Listen  to  me,  while  1  truly 

Tell  where  both  to  gain. 

Chorus. 

'Mid  encircling  snowy  mountains, 

Falls  and  canons  grand. 
Bathing-pools  and  spouting  fountains, 

Of  the  "Wonder-Land." 

There,  enraptured,  have  I  wandered 
Through  the  glades  and  dells, 

Where  the  big-horn,  elk,  and  beaver 
Each  in  freedom  dwells. 

Where  the  azure  pools  of  healing 

Terrace  from  the  snow. 
Like  a  glist'ning  cascade  frozen. 

To  the  glens  below. 


I  (    I 


Where  the  spray  from  spouting  fountains 

Forms  a  halo  crest. 
Looming  up  the  snowy  mountains 

Rainbows  where  they  rest. 


70 


t    I 


TI/E    IVONDER.LAND, 

Where  the  lialo's  quivering  shadows, 

O'er  the  Triple  Falls, 
Tint  the  canon,  where  wild  waters 

Echo  'long  its  walls. 

Where  the  swan  with  snowy  plumage, 

Brant,  and  cre.-,ted  drake, 
O'er  the  yellow  trout  and  speckled, 

Skim  the  crystal  lake. 

Where  the  screams  ol'  mountain-lion 

Pierce  the  midright  air, 
Like  the  fabled  Indian  warrior 

Wailing  in  despair. 

Where  the  moose  and  curly  bison, 

Monarchs  of  the  glades. 
Like  the  mammoth  loom  in  roaming 

'Mid  the  twilight  shade. 

Where  the  ancient  forests  vernal, 

Now  in  lava  cased, 
Matchless  opal,  crystal  caskets, 

Ruthless  are  defaced. 


7J 


Where  thin-crusted  earth  seems  bending 

From  the  fires  below, 
Threat'ning,  as  of  old,  the  rending 

And  lava  overflow. 

Where  the  bowers  of  Eden,  blooming 

'Mid  the  glens  of  earth. 
Nestle,  'neath  fierce  tempests  howling, 

Like  creation's  birth. 


VA 


i 


72  77/E    UONDER-I.AXD. 

Where  on  earth  are  niatclilcss  blended 
Vernal  flowers  and  snow, 

Eden  glens  and  glens  of  sulphur, 
Elysium  and  woe. 

<^Oh,  for  wisdom  in  the  councils 
Of  our  nation  great, 
To  protect  these  matchless  wonders 
From  a  ruthless  fate  I 


11 


PI  * 


150LL)    IIMRO   OF   'IIIK    UORDKR. 


m 


(gen.  nklsom  d.  miles.) 

Born  in  the  land  of  Pilgrims,  beside  its  granite  shore, 
Thy  lulUiby  of  freedom  the  waves  unfettered  roar, 
And,  rearing  as  a  yeoman,  amid  its  Northern  vales, 
Thy  heart  defends  thy  country  when  Southern  foe  assails  ; 
And  youthful   form  waxed   stalwart  thy  trusty  sword  to 

wield, 
In  craggy  pass  of  mountain  or  crimson  suli)hur  field. 
Till  loyal  hosts  in  triumi)h  forced  treason's  clans  to  yield. 

On  furlough  brief  from  battle,  thy  eager  soul  did  burn 
To  abler  serve  thy  country  and  worthy  laurels  earn  ; 
Then  o'er  the  distant  prairies  and  sterile  thorny  plains, 
Amid  the  rolling  coteau  the  Mystic  River  drains. 
The  wild  terrific  gulches  and  snowy  mountain-crest. 
The  war-trail  of  the  savage  thy  daring  footsteps  pressed, 
Bold  hero  of  the  border,  by  all  its  people  blest. 


The  bold  Nez-Perce  chieftain,  from  valley  of  the  West, 
Descending  to  the  coteau  from  snowy  mountain-crest. 
Safe  crossed  the  Mystic  River,  and  then  Missouri's  wave, 
The  matchless  mountain  trailer,  bold  leader  of  the  brave, 
'•''In  lair  of  hidden  gulches,  in  Woody  Mountain  wilds, 
On  Crow  and  Ree  and  Sturgis  in  proud  derision  smiles, 
Yet  found  on  trail  to  Britain  just  one  too  many  "  Miles." 


For  then  by  matchless  marching  o'er  desert  pass  and  plain, 
And  floods  of  mighty  rivers  which  snowy  mountains  drain, 
i>  7  73 


74 


noLD  HERO    OF   THE   BORDER. 


TJkc  phalanx  of  tlie  (liccian,  tluni  Icd'st  thy  vct'ran  l)an(l> 
VVIicic  conflicts  are  dcciilccl  in  struggle  hand  to  hand  ; 
For  tiicrc  with  sword  and  hatchet  in  gulch  with  no  retreat, 
Each  with  a  worthy  foeman  who  never  knew  defeat, 
The  Che-nook  and  the  Kagle  in  final  conflict  meet. 


\  I 


|i  ' 


Each  with  a  prayer  for  loved  ones;  the  hitter's  far  away, — 
The  first's  in  coula  hidden,  in  trembling  terror  lay, 
'Mid  deadly  ring  of  rifle  and  scorching  sulphur  smoke; 
The  reeking  lance  and  hatchet  and  sword's  descending 

stroke, 
The  chieftain's  battle-rally  and  answering  l"^.agle*s  scream. 
Commingled  coat  and  blanket  in  gushing  crimson  stream, 
Till  bright  through  storm  and  carnage  white  Che-nook 

flag  is  seen. 

<sThen  came  the  parley  herald, — no  servile  cringing  foe, 
But  chieftain  with  his  rifle,  the  victors'  terms  to  know, 
To  save  his  wife  and  children  and  remnant  of  his  band, — 
"Surrender!"  says  the  Eagle;  "these  warriors  understand 
The  mercy,  truth,  and  honor  I  tender  fallen  foe, 
Oft  takhig  to  my  service  the  warriors  that  I  know  1" 
And  thus  the  tide  of  crimson  in  mercy  ceased  to  flow. 

And  now,  bold  border  chieftain,  pray  listen  to  a  friend, 
With  matchless  nerve  and  daring  may  thoughts  of  loved 

ones  blend  ? 
Thy  prudence,  skill,  and  courage  are  themes  of  praise  by 

all. 
And  needed  still  by  country.     Beside,  wert  thou  to  fall. 
No  laurel  wreath  of  vict'ry  could  cheer  thy  lonely  home, 
Hush  widow's  wails,  or  orphans',  in  this  cold  world  alone  ; 
More  cautious  prove,  O  chieftain  !    when  duty  calls  to 

roam. 


^1 


STALWART  YEOMAN. 

^NoT  from  hall  of  the  Washhiirns, 

Who  so  long  have  honor'd  Maine, 
]iut  lowly  "JJuckcye"  cabin 

Our  stalwart  yeoman  came. 
Not  from  classic  Oberlin, 

Ever  in  freedom's  van,-— 
Self-taught,  with  chain  and  comi)ass, 

Wild  border-lines  he  ran, 
And  from  nature's  God  in  wildwood 

Well  learned  the  rights  of  man. 

Oh,  well  do  I  remember 

The  days  when  we  were  young, 
On  our  shoulders  trusty  rifles, 

And  from  belts  sharp  hatchets  hung. 
Such  training  made  us  sokliers 

In  freedom's  darkest  hour ; 
And  the  confidence  of  comrades, 

When  the  bloody  strife  was  o'er,     " 
Gave  him  the  seat  in  Congress 

Of  Dan  Voorhees— "Sycamore." 

From  the  halls  of  legislation,* 
When  our  duty  there  was  done. 

We  met  amid  the  mountains, 
Far  towards  the  setting  sun. 


*  His  duties  were  thus  in  the  councils  of  the  nation,  mine  in  the  less 
p.omment  position  of  a  member  of  the  Legislature  of  Ohio. 

75 


76 


SrAI.U'AKT    YEOMAN. 


tt 


!i 


I  trailed  down  the  Columbia, 

He  traced  up  the  Yellowstone 
To  the  geysers  of  Wyoming 

And  lava  caHon  lone, 
Where  halos  lure  but  poison, 

And  turned  his  footsteps  home 
To  distant  Wabash  valley. 

Thence  never  more  to  roam. 

Cold  rest  the  cloils  of  Wabash, 

Piled  on  his  patriot  breast; 
Chill  howl  the  storms  of  winter 

Round  Mount  Washburn's  rocky  crest. 
Warm  glowed  his  form  with  ardor 

When  freedom's  flag  he  bore ; 
Warm  thrilled  his  heart  for  loved  one 

'Mid  the  desert  tempests'  roar. 
Tender  their  tears  of  greeting 

When  the  toils  of  life  were  o'er; 
Sweet  'mid  the  bowers  of  Eden 

May  they  dwell  for  evermore. 


^ 


,  I 


■ti 


■■^^•«i— i.»^ 


(in  WIIKRK   DUTY  CATJ^S  Tiii-:r:. 


<^ 


Go  where  duty  calls  tlicc, 
Or  where  hope  enthralls  thee, 

O'er  mountain,  lake,  or  glade; 
Where  the  wild  man  roameth, 
Or  the  wild  wind  moaneth, 

Deej)  'mid  the  forest  shade; 
Where  the  turtle  cooing. 
Or  the  bison  lowing, 
'Neath  the  wild  storm  brewing, 

Would  I  be  dear  to  thee  ? 
In  a  cavern  screening 
Thee  from  tempest  screaming, 

Wilt  thou  remember  me? 


When  by  spouting  fountains, 
'Mitl  the  snowy  mountains, 
In  the  Park  of  Mystery, 
From  thy  couch  of  flowers, 
In  enchanting  bowers. 

Oft  wilt  thou  sigh  for  me  ? 
And  from  halos  pouring 
O'er  wild  waters  roarincr, 
Like  proud  eagle  soaring, 
Oh,  will  thy  spirit  free, 
O'er  white  mountains  looming. 
Or  bright  prairies  blooming, 
Often  revisit  me? 
7* 


77 


7-^ 


i  I 


(70    U'/lf-lKF.   DUTY  CALLS    THEE. 

VVhcii  fierce  foes  a  legion, 
\\\  some  lowly  rej^ion, 

Ik'Icague  thy  inomil.iin  ( .uwp, 
And,  from  watching  tlroary, 
This  loved  form  grows  weary, 

Cold  Its  turfy  couch  and  damp, 
In  tliy  fitful  dreaming 
Will  these  bright  eyes  heiwning, 
Or  in  sorrow  streaming, 

Like  angels  visit  thee? 
All  in  anguish  quaking, 
From  thy  vision  waking, 

Oh,  wilt  thou  welcome  mc  ? 

When  from  leaden  rattle 
Of  terrific  battle 

Smoke  hides  the  light  of  day, 
And  from  hatchet  gleaming 
Crimson  tide  is  streaming 

In  visions  far  aw.iy. 
From  the  gory  lying, 
Hear  the  moans  and  sighing 

Of  bosom  dear  to  thee, 
Lis])  will  latest  whisper 
Dearer  name  than  sister. 

And  sacred  all  to  mc? 


i 


TIIK    DVINC;    MANDANS 

Brvf.ath  tlic  rolling  rotc.iu, 

Ucsiile  liie  roaring  flood, 
Dwelt  the  race  of  the  Man-i-tou, 

Mandans  of  the  better  blood.' 

Their  earth-lodge  homes  of  plenty, 

iMoni  tillage  of  the  soil, 
Knticed  the  Sioux  robbers 

To  plunder  and  despoil. 

Slaughtered  amid  the  gardens. 
And  driven  from  the  plain, 

Smallpox  among  the  wardens, 
Missouri's  bath  was  vain. 

Death's  last  relentless  gleaner 
Swept  maidens  yomig  and  fair  ; 

Warriors  with  plume  and  streamer 
Lay  dying  everywhere. 

Where,  then,  were  Clarke  and  Catlin  > 
Where  Irving,  Camp,  and  Stone  ? 

With  Brule  and  smallpox  battling, 
They  sank  and  died  alone  ! 

79 


80 

////•:  nv/xi;  a/.ix/kixs. 

''M)li,  yli.isily  sd'Uf  of  horror  1 

Oh,  ^{hastly  town  of  doom  I 

No  hope  ill  <lavvii  of  morrow, 

^ 

No  halo  'mid  tlic  gh>om. 

TIhis  sank  the  Ree  and  Mandan, 

• 

Nt)  friends  to  cheer  or  save ; 
Thus  (UinLT  in  abandon. 

And  for  the  dead  no  grave. 

Long  years  iiave  tome  and  vanished. 
Crumbling  each  earth-lodge  home  ; 

Long  have  tlic  remnant  l)anished 
Ceasetl  o'er  the  site  to  roam. 

Ily  LitlU"  Horn's  green  valley — 
IJeyond  the  Yellowstone — 

Sioux,  Ihule,  and  'IVton  rally, 
The  pale-face  dead  luivc  strewn. 

Long  years  again  shall  vanish. 
Ami  Custer,  Cook,  and  blue, — 

Their  honors  none  would  banish 
From  lists  of  heroes  true. 


And  Reynolds, — noble  Charley, — 
And  Mandan, — IJloody-Knife, — 

Who  ever  scorned  to  parley. 
But  fighting  gave  their  life  1 


1  ■" 


u 


.<L. 


TIIK    I)YIN(;   TRAl'l'KK. 


/ 


rF.|.:Ri,F.:ss  the  park  of  ft)iintains  I 

I'ar,  oh,  far  below 
Its  circhng  crests  of  mountains, 

lU'^irt  witli  ice  and  snow  ! 

*"nar(l  by  tliose  spouting  fountains, 
Far,  oh,  far  away  ! 
Done  with  liis  frays  and  scoutings, 
A  dying  trap|)er  hiy  : 

One  reared  in  wealth  and  kindness,— 

Sad,  oh,  sad  the  day  ! 
When  i)h"ghted  love  and  blindness 

Allured  his  feet  astray. 

Long  years  have  come  and  vanished,— 

Time,  oh,  time  has  flown  ! 
Si  nee  rudely  scorned  and  banished 

To  tread  the  wilds  alone. 

But  on  that  gloomy  morning 

Screams,  oh,  screams,  and  yells,— 

Of  death  and  ravage  warnino-, — 
Rang  through  the  glades  and  dells ! 


8r 


Af               • 

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if-; ' 

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82 


THE   DYIXG    TRAPPEl^. 

Gory  and  scalped  around  liini, 

Cold,  oh,  cold  and  dead  ! 
Wore  cherished  friends  who  bound  him 

To  home  and  vision  fled. 


'\--..  ' 


1^-" 


THK    DYINC    TKAPrKR. 


Remnant  soon  of  comrades  rally, — 

Few,  oh,  few,  and  sad  ! 
'M>oys,"  he  says,  "dark  seems  the  valley, 

Oh,  ;; -ntiy  raise  my  head  ! 


'J'liE  DYING  'iK.irrr.R. 

'*  Brotliers,  Life's  crimson  tide  is  llowing,- 

Sooii,  oh,  soon  'twill  cease! 
Lone  through  canon  dark  I'm  going 

To  gulch  of  Wee  or  glen  of  Peace. 

"Comrades,  long  we've  roamed  together! 

Drear,  oh,  drear,  we  i)art  ! 
Deadly  storms  scowl  o'er  the  heather,-— 

Dim's  the  trail  lo  IIc,M.-en's  Park. 


S3 


J  ■■ . 


•■'.'). . 


C:t: 


"  ]3ut  portrait  from  my  bosom  never 
Death,  oh,  death,  shall  part  ! 

Piercing  arrow  does  not  sever, 
]Uit  pinions  Laura  to  my  heart ! 

"  P.y  thy  beck'ning  hand  invited. 

Love,  oh,  love,  I  come  ! 
Severed  in  life,— in  death  united. 

We'll  evermore  be  one  !" 


150ZKMAN   BOLD. 

A  TALE  of  guide,  vvlio  daring  band 
From  Platte  led  safe  through  desert  sand, 
Wild  Big-horn  gulch  and  canon  lone, 
To  mountain  g  ite  of  Yellowstone  ; 
No  bridge,  no  boat,  no  friend  to  hail, 
And  painted  warriors  on  their  trail. 

Mild  autumn  days  are  waning  fast. 
Round  mountain-peak  howls  wintry  blast ; 
For  sheltered  vale  of  Gallatin 
Pilgrim  and  guide  are  dashing  in, — 
'"Bull-boat  and  raft,  nmstang  and  mule, 
5° At  war-path  ford  of  Crow  and  Jhule. 

in  rival  bands  last  crest  tliey  scale 

l]y  Bozeman's  Pass  and  Biidger's  Trail ; 

"  White  men  and  tents," — oh,  glorious  sheen 

Of  murm'ring  rill  and  pastures  green  ! 

A  town  they  plant,  but  wait  for  fame 

Of  daring  deed  to  christen  name. 


Too  soon,  alas  !   for  ranger  brave, 
Pilgrim  beleagued,  on  trail  to  save. 
In  vision  bright,  on  coteau  wild, 
Saw  sainted  wife  and  darling  child. 
"  Husband  and  sire,  no  longer  roam  ; 
In  morn  thou' It  soar  to  us  and  home." 


84 


noZEMAN  BOLD. 

By  camp-fire  dim  on  Yellowstone 
Spake  daring  guide  to  comrade  lone: 
"  Uj),  comrade,  up  !    grasj)  rifle  soon  ! 
Swift  i)into  mount,  and  dash  from  doom  ! 
T.eave  me  to  fate,  my  toils  are  o'er; 
Soon  friends  I'll  greet  on  brighter  shore." 

As  comrade  halts,  kind  words  to  say, 
"  Quick,  saddle  horse,  and  haste  away  !" 
Pie  cries;  when  lo  !  adown  the  glen, 
On  loping  steeds  dash  painted  men. 
With  rifle  poised  he  ready  stands 
Till  spouting  gore  stains  desert  sands. 

Comrade  escaped, — sad  tale  to  tell, — 
Returning,  found  him  as  he  fell. 
Rifle  and  scalp,  pistol  and  plume, 
5' Sure,  phantom-warriors  caused  thr  doom 
Cheyenne  and  Crow  oft  tried  in  vain, 
And  pass  and  town  bear  Bozeman's  name. 


85 


8 


THE   CLOUD-CIRCLia)   MOUNTAINS. 

^"Mv  heart's  in  the  mountains,  my  licarl's  not  at  home; 

Though  here  chister  blessings,  I  still  love  to  roam. 

My  heart's  with  my  pinto,  my  rifle  and  belt, 

Where  big-horn  and  beaver  forever  have  tlwelt. 

Oh,  my  heart's  'mid  the  fountains  and  streamlets  below 

The  cloud-circled  n^.ounlains,  white-crested  with  snow  ! 

My  heart's  'mid  the  mirage,  the  lakes,  and  the  plains, 
The  buttes  and  the  coteaus,  where  wild  nature  reigns; 
My  heart's  'mid  the  coulees  and  canons  so  grand, 
And  bright-spouting  geysers  of  lone  Wonder-Land. 
Oh,  my  heart's  'mid  those  fountains  and  streamlets  below 
Those  cloud-circled  mountains,  white-crested  with  snow  I 

My  heart's  by  the  camp-fres  of  trappers  so  bold, 
The  tents  and  the  teepees  of  warriors  of  old  ; 
My  heart's  down  the  river,  whose  torrents  loud  roar 
In  greeting  the  billows  on  surf-beaten  shore. 
Oh,  my  heart's  'mid  the  fountains,  whence  trout  stream- 
lets flow^ 
'Mid  cloud-circled  mountains,  white-crested  with  snow  ! 

My  heart's  in  the  valleys  and  parks  of  the  West, 
'Mid  deer,  elk,  and  grizzly,  of  all  game  the  best. 
Farewell  to  my  business,  farewell  to  my  home ; 
Adieu  to  my  loved  ones,  my  fate  is  to  roam 
'Mid  the  pure  crystal  fountains  and  geysers  below 
The  wild-circling  mountains,  white-glistening  with  snow. 
86 


im* 


■Jl/r:    CrOUD-ClRCLED   ArOCArrAlNS. 


^7 


My  heart's  'mid  old  forests  1)y  lava  o'orthrown, 

Now  crystals  of  opal  and  anicthysl-stone, 

Chalcedony  casket  (for  Ma  litou's  heart), 

And  brilliant  enamel  unrivalled  by  art. 

Oh,  my  heart's  'mid  such  c;  verns  'neath  the  lava  o'erflow 

From  once  fiery  mountains,  now  buried  in  snow  ! 

My  heart  glows  with  ardor  to  gather  and  learn 

New  lessons  of  science,  if  spared  to  return ; 

If  mine  be  to  perish,  may  Heaven  bestow 

A  tomb  in  lone  grotto  deep  hidden  in  snow  ! 

Oh,  my  heart's  'mid  the  fountains  and  grottos  below 

The  cloud-circled  mountains,  wiiite-crested  with  snow  ! 


I  SI 


I  ■ 


WHERE   ELSE   ON   EARTH? 

S3  Where  else  on  earth  does  water  furnish 
Rocky  evidence  so  strong 
Of  its  power  to  build  and  burnish, 
As  tliis  terrace,  high  and  long? 

Chorus, 

Where  the  peerless  pools  for  healing 
From  their  ruins  'mid  the  snow, 

Each,  with  waters  health  restoring. 
Terrace  to  the  glens  below. 


h  -I 


—^ 


Dim,  amid  the  ages  vanished. 
Snowy  waters  laughing  poured, 

Through  the  valley,  and  in  canon, 
Loud,  in  falls  and  rapids,  roared. 


jjii' 

m 


Then  from  womb  of  fires  smothered 
Broad  were  yawning  fissures  rent, 

And  o'er  mists  from  seething  waters 
Rainbows  ever  beauteous  blent. 


'Twas  a  new  creation  forming, 
Geysers,  matchless  at  their  birth  ; 

Round  their  hissing  funnels  buililing 
Marble  forms  unknown  to  earth. 


iy//EA'E   ELSE    ON  EARTH? 

\\\  the  ages  slowly  passing, 

From  these  rents  of  liidden  fire 

Spouts  the  niin'ral-ladeii  waters, 
Terrace  ever  building  higher. 

Till  athwart  the  canon  yawning, 
Firm  a  rocky  barrier  rose, — 

With  the  severed  waters  forming 
Mountain-lake  uniid  the  snows. 

5* Long  its  waves,  by  tempest  driven, 
Fiercely  lashed  its  seething  shore  j 
Fire  and  flood  in  conflict  fearful 
'Mid  the  clouds  terrific  roar. 

But  the  power  evci'  waning 
Of  the  smothered  Tire  o'i  woe 

Left  the  crests  with  forests  circleii, 
And  new  funnels  formed  below. 

53  Then  the  ever-lashing  billows 
Rent  a  gap  in  mountain-side, 
And  the  wild  escaping  waters 
Carved  a  canon  deep  and  wide. 

Still  the  all-eroding  waters 

Undermined  the  crests  of  snow, 

Hurling  funnel,  tree,  and  terrace. 
Crushed  and  mingled,  far  below. 


89 


''"'Hence  these  ruins  weird  and  fearful. 
And  the  cliffs  so  \\hite  and  grand, 
And  these  crumbli'^g  cones  of  g-;ysers, 
Still  the  pride  of  Wonder-Lanci, 

8- 


.  ^fwwL«,j|u^n^t 


IJRADLEY   THK    15RAVE. 

"  Last  of  a  race  of  warriors  who  served  their  country 

well, 
In  glen  of  distant  mountains  foremost  thou  fighting  fell ; 
The  promise  of  a  hero,  in   thy  maiden-march   through 

rain 
In  the  mountains  of  Virginia,  has  proven  not  in  vain. 
E'en  now  as  then  I  view  thee  expand  from  boy  to  man, 
When  the  opening  roar  of  battle  first  found  thee  in  the 

van, 
Ever  thy  choice  of  duty  where  crimson  torrents  ran. 

When  strength  of  sire  was  sinking  from  suffering  in  the 

field 
Thy   youthful   arm  waxed   stalwart    the   l)attle-blade   to 

wield  ; 
In  every  post  of  duty,  of  danger,  or  of  skill. 
Matchless  was  thy  endurance,  thy  iron  nerve  and  will ; 
Until  the  flag  of  freedom,  of  union,  and  of  love, 
O'er  fiery  clans  of  treason  in  triumph  soared  above 
With  the  pinion  of  the  eagle  and   the  plumage  of  the 

dove. 

Then  hastening  to  the  border,  thou  eager  sought  to  know 
The  hidden  haunts  of  Blackfoot,  of  Sioux,  and  of  Crow; 
And  boldly,  with  thy  vet'rans,  in  craggy  pass  or  plain, 
Or  valleys  of  the  rivers  the  snowy  mountains  drain, 
Thou  fearless  trailed  the  savage,  the  innocent  to  save, — 
90 


JiRADr.EY  THE   liKAVE. 


>» 


Tlioiigh  summer's  sun  is  scorching  or  winter's  tempest 

rave, — 
On  all  the  border  honored,  l)old  leader  of  the  brave. 

But  halo  days  aro  ended,  and  sorrow  is  come, 
With  the  stalwart  Nez-Pcrces  from  setting  of  sun, 
In  the  vanguard  of  Gibbon,  first  flash  lays  thee  low. 
Still  thy  battle-blade  clasping,  firm  facing  fhe  foe; 
'Mid  tile  heaps  of  slain  comrades  tho'rt  deluged  in  gore, 
Cold  and  stern  is  thy  visage,— thy  conflicts  are  o'er. 
And  the  war-whoop  of  savage  shall  rouse  thee  no  more  ! 

Far  away  art  thou  sleeping  in  silence  and  peace. 

Friends  and  kindred  are  weeping, — in  joy  let  them  cease; 

Thy  sore-stricken  parents  rejoice  in  a  son, 

A  hero,  whose  laurels  were  gallantly  won  ; 

Thy  State  and  thy  country  in  gratitude  save 

5' From  sorrow  thy  loved  ones,  and  green  o'er  thy  grave 

Twine  the  myrtle  and  laurel,  O  Bradley  the  brave  ! 


FROM    HKMIORN'S    HLKAR    MOUNTAINS. 

"From  Big-horn's  bleak  mountains  white  glistening  with 

snow, 
The  Hig-horn's  bright  fountains  tlirougli  green  meadows 

flow, 
Or,  skipping  and  tUisliing  in  rapids  or  fails, 
In  fury  loud  lashing  their  deep  cafion  walls; 
Then  'mid  the  long  eoteaus  by  roses  o'ergrown 
Rush  its  floods  to  their  greeting  the  bold  Yellowstone. 

In  all  these  green  valleys  from  river  to  snow, 
Where  autumn  long  dallies,  are  cairns  of  the  Crow  ; 
The  harvest  of  battles  with  Rick-a-ree  brave. 
And  Sioux  or  Blackfoot,  their  country  to  save  ; 
Where  warm  arc  the  winters  and  countless  the  game 
Of  bison  and  "big-horn," — "wild  sheep," — hence  the 
name. 


:    i 


But  vain  were  all  efforts  with  Sioux  for  peace ; 
Ne'er  silent  was  war-whoop,  ne'er  signal-fires  cease, 
'"Till  Custer  from  Rosebud  saw  valley  as  sweet 
As  glens  where  the  spirits  of  warriors  shall  meet, 
And  in  his  last  rally,  'mid  plumed  crested  braves, 
Led  phalanx  of  heroes  to  glory, — not  graves  ! 

Here  Bridger  and  Bozeman,  in  crusade  for  gold. 
Led  pilgrims  and  miners  and  mountaineers  bold  ; 
92 


f  **^*rtbw  — 


rh'OAt  /i/G'I/ORN\S  lU.F.AK  MOUNT.t/XS. 

Fierce  figbling  llio  Sioux — but  kind  was  the  Crow — 
III  passes  of  mountains  or  valleys  below, — 
''  And  Farrer  and  comrades  passed  safely  alon(( 
Sweet  valley,  now  famous  for  slaughter  and  song. 


93 


O'er  all  these  long  roteaus,  from  mountain  to  plain, 
In  all  these  broad  valleys  that  mountain  floods  drain, 
Kach  park  'mid  the  forests,  and  each  glen  'mid  the  snow, 
Are  dwindling  the  warriors,  are  fading  the  Crow  ; 
And  soon  shall  the  ploughshare  of  pale-face  turn  o'er 
The  sites  of  their  teepees,  once  crimson  with  gore, — 
The  bones  of  a  people  who  wander  no  more  ! 


■> 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Uifil   121 
Ut  |||2    |2.2 

•yuu 


fliotogiaphic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14SS0 

(716)  872-4503 


V 


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6^ 


MYSTIC   LAND. 

"Oh,  tell  ine,  I  pray  thee,  my  comrade  and  friend, 
In  Mystic  Land  only  do  wonders  so  blend  ? 
liright  fountains,  bleak  mountains  unrivalled  in  form, 
Commingling,  encircling,  in  sunshine  and  storm  ; 
And  geysers  and  salses  eject  from  below 
Hot  water  and  sulphur  from  regions  of  woe, 
With  moanings  and  groanings,  like  wails  of  the  lost, 
From  funnels  of  fire  encircled  by  frost  I 

**  There  big-horn  and  bison  calm  graze  in  the  glade. 

Near  grizzly  and  lion,  low  crouched  in  the  shade; 

Where  throbbings  and  flowings  of  hot  springs  and  streams 

Build  cascades  of  marble,  reflecting  in  gleams ; 

Cliff-buttressed,  tall  turrets,  white  glistening  in  snow. 

Are  mirrored  in  lakelets  unfathomed  below ; 

And  bendings  and  rendings  of  thin  crust  of  earth, 

In  quivering  convulsions,  like  .travail  of  birth  ; 

Hot  water  in  chaldrons  by  cold  lake  and  brook. 

For  boiling,  still  floundering,  live  trout  on  the  hook. 


*•  Where  rubies  bright  sparkle  in  caskets  of  stone, 
Of  cedars  and  balsams  by  lava  o'erflown  ; 
And  crystals  in  grottos  e'er  glisten  and  gleam 
In  visions  unrivalled  save  Aladdin's  dream  ; 
Near  caverns  of  sulphur  as  hissing  and  hot 
As  slime  vales  of  Sodom  in  legend  of  Lot ; 
94 


MYSTIC    LAM). 

And  niist-shccn  and  echo,  from  cascades  and  falls, 
With  beauty  and  nuisic  enliven  their  walls; 
And  coule  and  canon,  deep-furrowed  by  time. 
Are  terraced  and  tinted,  iini(iue  and  sublime  ; 
And  rainbow  and  halo  encircle  the  sheen 
Of  geysers  reflected  in  lakelets  of  green  I" 


95 


'*  Hist,  comrade  I   I  claim  there  is  not  on  this  earth 

Its  rival  in  beauty,  in  wonders,  or  worth; 

For  surely  here  nature  has  gathered  to  show 

In  marvels  commingled  all  mortals  should  know  ; 

Of  planet  formation  its  growth  and  decay, 

As  childhood  to  m.'nhood,  and  fading  away; 

Where  ramble  and  romance  insure  from  despair 

The  victims  of  sickness,  of  sorrow,  and  care, 

And  science,  in  strata,  new  pages  unfold 

Of  structure  and  crystal  in  forests  of  old  ; 

Lo  !  Christians,  in  meekness,  in  faith,  and  in  love. 

Seek  from  wonders  below  their  Creator  above." 


THE   GRANGER   SONG. 


'-'On,  my  ruriil  friend  and  neighbor. 
If  inclined  to  ro;un, 
Listen  to  me  while  I  truly 
Say,  Why  stay  at  home. 

Chorus, 

Kecj)  the  farm,  my  rural  neighbor. 

Hold  the  plough  or  drive; 
Drain  your  swamps,  read  well,  and  labor^ 

Frugal  live  an>l  thrive. 

In  the  passing  years  depressing 

Countless  homes  are  sold 
On  a  mortgage  for  a  trifle, 

Lost  in  search  of  gold. 

Some  in  cities  seek  professions 

Already  overgrown  ; 
Others  business  all  unfitting. 

Now  their  luck  bemoan. 


96 


Some  the  prairies  and  the  valleys 
Of  the  boundless  West, 

Though  alluring,  found  deceiving. 
And  are  sore  distressed. 


THE    GRANGER   SONG. 

Oil,  the  hunger,  toil,  and  danger 

or  the  thirsty  plain, 
Or  in  gulches  of  the  pilgrim, 

Seeking  gold  in  vain  ! 

Cold  the  clods  and  rude  tlie  coffin 

O'er  some  loving  bri:ast  ; 
Thus  unwisely,  all  untimely, 

Hasten'd  to  his  rest. 

Neither  mountain,  gem,  nor  valley 

Should  entice  to  roam 
From  the  blessings  ever  nestling 

'Round  an  eastern  home. 

Oh,  ye  lassies,  early  blooming, 

Harbor  not  the  beau 
Who  is  witty — niore's  the  pity — 

From  the  wine's  o'erflow. 

And  ye  Grangers,  seeking  knowledge 

In  our  rural  schools. 
Wisely  choose  the  yeoman  college, — 

Tis  no  place  for  fools. 


97 


'-•f 


Long  and  narrow  seems  the  furrow 

As  a  road  to  wealth ; 
Yet  pursuing  is  insuring 

Honor,  home,  and  health. 


E 


Plant  the  chestnut,  yew,  and  balsam, 

Ash  and  vernal  pine, 
Arbor-vitce  hedge  'round  orchard. 

Peach  and  trellis'd  vine. 
0  9 


98  THE   GRANGER  SONG. 

Hold  the  homestead  of  your  father; 

Leave  it  to  your  son  j 
Leave  it  better  than  you  found  it 

When  your  work  is  done. 


Build  your  school-rooms,  rear  your  churches, 

And  sustain  them  too  ; 
Be  to  temperance,  truth,  and  virtue 

Ever  just  and  true. 


BORDKR   lUlAVE. 


(general   N.    D.    MIM'.S.} 

Vict'ry  again,  thou  border  brave, 
Snatched  from  the  jaws  of  fate  ; 

Through  flood  or  flame  to  battle  save 
Thou  never  wert  too  late. 

Nez-Perce's,  chief  of  gallant  ra(  e, 

Proud  leader  on  the  trail. 
In  Gibbon's  charge  and  Howard's  chase 

Proved  fearful  to  assail. 

Through  glade  and  glen  in  Wonder-Land 

His  stalwart  warriors  came. 
Tourists  to  save  'mid  geysers  grand 

Plead  innocence  in  vain. 

When  winding  from  the  snowy  crest, 

Or  dashing  o'er  the  plain. 
The  crafty  Crow,  and  Sturgis  pressed 

Upon  his  trail  in  vain. 

Then  o'er  Missouri's  turbid  flood 

He  all  pursuers  scorns. 
Yet  on  the  trail  to  Sitting  Bull 

Found  Woody  Mountain  thorns. 


99 


loo 


noF!n/:K  /iK.tri-:. 


Tlicrc,  trailer  thou  on  nioiiiUain-path, 

And  victor  of  the  dales, 
As  screaming  eagle  swoops  in  wrath. 

The  fearful  foe  assails. 


Thy  vct'rans  bold  charge  as  of  oKl, 
*i\Iid  storm  and  leaden  rain, 

And  daring  scout  and  comrades  bold 
Are  numbered  with  the  slain 


*'Not  unavenged,  for  Looking-Cllass 
And  countless  warriors  brave 
No  more  will  ambush  in  the  i)ass, 
But  fill  a  warrior's  grave. 

The  white  flag  floats  for  fight  to  cease ; 

Then  pleads  the  chief  to  save 
The  remnant  of  his  band,  and  peace 

Of  gallant  liorder  Brave. 


THE   TATTOOKI)   ARTIST. 

'■•I  siNc;  of  an  artist,  scribe,  poet,  and  seer, 

A  lover  of  nature  and  scofTer  at  fear, 

Who  longed  in  his  childhood,  and  yearned  as  a  man, 

For  a  steed  on  the  border,  a  sword  in  the  van. 

And  a  couch  on  the  field  where  the  red  torrents  ran. 


At  school  oft  the  figures  would  marshal  as  men, 

Fierce  braves  on  the  coteau,  or  scouts  in  the  glen  ; 

His  brush,  as  an  artist,  the  lib'es  woidd  scorn, 

And  glory  in  painting  the  cactus  and  thorn, 

Or  the  crests  of  his  warriors  with  plumes  would  adorn. 

As  a  poet,  o'erlooking  the  beauties  of  home, 
His  themes  are  of  artists  and  warriors  who  roam, — 
Tall,  portly,  and  stalwart,  with  long,  wavy  hair, 
A  hero  he  seems  in  the  eyes  of  the  fair. 
And  his  lyrics  the  patrons  of  science  ensnare. 

And  thus  he  arranges  a  tourist  to  go 
O'er  the  plains  and  the  rivers  and  mountains  of  snow. 
To  note  while  he  journeys,  and  write  when  at  rest, 
And  paint  the  proud  warriors  and  steeds  of  the  West, 
To  publish  in  journals  of  science  the  best. 

With  outfit  unrivalled,  hope  buoyant  and  strong, 
He  hies  for  the  regions  of  slaughter  and  song ; 
All  cheerful  his  parting  with  patrons  and  friends, 
But  tears  fleck  the  tokens  a  fond  mother  sends, 
And  the  cheeks  of  one  dearer,  whose  locket  attends. 

9*  loi 


103 


77//:    TATlOOEn  ANTIST. 


Our  hero  a  lislciitr  to  lectures  ha<l  been, 
Which  portray  the  white  man  as  |)riinitive  sin  ; 
While,  lo  !  llie  poor  Indian  is  ever  in  need, 
IJercft  of  Ins  birthright  and  robbed  of  his  steed, 
Safe  prey  for  the  pale-face,  his  lust,  anil  his  greed. 

And  Catlin  he'd  envied,  and  Cooper  perused. 

On  their  tales  and  their  paintings  in  sympathy  mused, 

'Till  love  for  his  race  as  a  people  had  fled  ; 

No  fear  on  the  border  save  of  those  who  had  said, 

*'  The  only  good  Indians  are  those  who  are  ilead." 


!     I 


Thus  blithe  from  the  portals  of  science  and  lore, 
He  hies  to  the  regions  of  ambush  and  gore  ; 
On  a  craft  of  the  rivers,  released  from  restraint, 
In  tracin,        "  nature,  wild,  brilliant,  or  quaint. 
He  revels  .      .  brushes,  pen,  pencil,  and  paint. 

"Oh,  ho!"  says  our  artist,  "quick  land  me  again," 
As  a  village  of  teepees  he  spies  on  the  plain  ; 
"  I'll  show  you  the  spirit  of  Catlin  survives. 
And  fears  not  the  warriors,  dog-soldiers,  or  wives  !" 
"They're  i)ainters  all,  too,"  quoth  a  scout,  "and  have 
knives." 


While  the  steamer  is  puffing  to  round  a  great  bend, 
Does  our  artist  with  vigor  the  coteau  ascend  ; 
The  warriors  perceive  him,  and  quickly  prepare 
'I'o  tender  a  greeting  warm,  brilliant,  and  rare, 
And  finish  the  frolic  by  "lifting  his  hair." 


"  How-how  !"  quoth  our  artist  as  rearing  his  brush, 
"  Mak-wa"  say  the  warriors  as  for  him  they  rush  ; 


I- 


in  I:     I  ATI  OO  1:1)    AKIIST. 


»03 


While  sci'king  to  show  ihnn  liis  friciulship  and  f.iith, 
They  rol)  liiiii  and  writ  him  with  jccrin};  and  mirth, 
ICach  brave  and  sciuaw  hcl[)ing  "  for  all  ihty  are  worth." 

Down  hot  pours  the  sun  on  ids  siiotdilers  and  hac  k, 
Kach  s(piaw  making  njorry  with  tickle  and  wh  u  k  ; 
Watch,  clothing,  and  weapons  are  stripped  from  his  ne<  k, 
Scpiaw,  p;:ppoose,  and  wi/anl  each  save  from  the  wreck, 
And  the  breast  of  the  chief,  does  his  locket  beiletk. 

I,o!   modesty  shockini/,  no  model  so  nude 
IC'er  poised  for  his  pencil  as  fcjr  it  he  stooil  ; 
Nor  was  it  on  canvas  their  tracings  were  (piaint, 
lUit  the  model  ihey  lac  kled  with  bodkin  and  paint  ; 
Such  greeting  by  friends!   'twould  have  rufllcd  a  saint. 

On  thighs  they  lizards  tattoo  in  colors  bright  and  true  ; 
On  belly  plump  a  bull-boat  with  naked  scpiaws  the  crew  ; 
On  brawny  breast  Crow  totems  of  glistening  black  they 

drew ; 
On  arms  and  cheek  a  striping  of  yellow,  red,  and  blue  ; 
On  forehead  grinning  goblins,  all  hideous  to  the  view  ; 
And  ears  and  nose  fresh  eyelets,  with  gaudy  trinkets  new. 
Rig  up  his  frontal  gear ! 


Some  raven-plumes  they  plaited  among  his  golden  hair. 
And  eagle-pinions  painted  across  his  shoulders  fair; 
On  back  a  curly  bison,  with  tail  erect  in  air, 
With  rampant  strides  was  chaj-ing  a  grizzly  to  his  lair; 
Some  serpents  scaly  twining  where  jjants  he  used  to  wear, 
And  pair  of  wall-eyed   owlets  where  wont  to  press  the 
chair. 

Brought  up  a  brilliant  rear  ! 


104 


rill'.    TATTOOtin  AKTIST. 


4 


Sure  'twas  ;i  sight  that  Hariur.u,  with  all  his  craft  and  gold, 
Ne'er  saw,  or  dreamed,  or  conjured,  though  half  is  still 

iintuld. 
A  forked  post  they  plante<l  two  bison-heads  to  hold, 
And   griz/ly's  head  above  them,  by  forked  i)rt)ng  eon- 
trolled  ; 
With  cruel  thongs  they  boinul  him,  as  slave  in  market  solil. 
Anil  fagots  piled  aroiintl  him,  lest  he  was  growing  cold; 
And  then  they  danced  and  sung  : 

"Si-oux  chieftain,  tall  and  bold, 

Maiden  fair  and  wizard  old  , 

Ilun-ka,*  weaaMi,  pap-poosef  young, 

Warrior  wi'h  his  bow  unstrung. 

Meet  you,  greet  you,  heart  and  hand, 

'I'o  the  secrets  c»f  our  land. 

And  upon  your  bosom  white 

To-temsl  trace  for  sacred  rite; 

Deep  we  pierce  and  bright  we  paint 

Grizzly  bold  and  bison  quaint ; 

Shunk-to-ke-cha,§  hc-kha-ka,|| 

Shun-ka-wa-kan,^  wa-pa-ha,** 

Wi-ta-wa-ta,ff  sa-pal.");  wan,§§ 
nil  Wi-chen-yai.  na,^^  win-i-ban."  *** 


*  Da'-ko-ta,  his  mortier.  f  O-jib-wa,  Indian  child, 

\  To'-tems,  symbolic  Indian  name. 

g  I)a-ko-ta,  the  other  dog,  wolf. 

II  Da-ko-ta,  the  antlered  male  elk. 

f  Da-ko-ta,  shun-ka,  dog;  wa-kan,  sacred  dog,  horse. 
**  Da-ko-ta,  hat  or  cap. 

tt  Da-ko-ta,  ship  or  boat.  X\  Da-ko-ta,  black. 

<^g  Da-ko-ta,  one,  a  or  an. 

Ijij  The  last  line  doubtless  refers  to  some  maiden  of  the  tribe  who 
had  been  carried  off  by  the  white  men. 

W  Da-ko-ta,  girl.  **#  O  jib-wa,  gone. 


V 


THE    lATTOOI.n  Ah"l/sr. 


los 


Wliilc  \vi/.;u'(l  <  in  led  rouiu!  liim,  with  j)ii<king  thrust  of 

Npcar, 
\Vitlis(  al|)iiit{-knifeawarri(>r(  arvi'<l  roi.McI  Iiis  frontal  ^vav, 
Aiul  liatdict  liiirli'd  at  cur-rings,  to  test  his  sense  of  fear; 
Sonic  sijuawR  with    ram  id   bear's  grease  his  thighs  and 

huitocks  smear, 
In  love,  with  spUntcrs  hKi/ing,  they  singed  him  tlierc 

and  here, 
Then  kindly  fired  the  fagots,  his  Indian  friends  to  cheer. 
And  then  another  dancir  and  ^ong  : 

"  Ilia  lii,*  you  come  to  sec, 
Lo-lo-iof  you  want  to  be  ; 
('hit-woot|  sk()-kuni,§  bold  you  ronic, 
M()s-mos,||  stupid  to  your  doom, 
Ab-sa-ra-ka,^  til-Ia-cumc.*'" 
Qne-u-(iue-u,ff  lance  and  plinnc, 
Min-ne-ke-wa|];  cannot  save, 
Min-ne-wa-wa§§  branches  wave, 
Kam-ooks||||  gaunt  around  you  glare, 
Ka-kaws^^  circle  in  the  air. 
IJy  the  blood  of  kindred  slain 
Thine  shall  lance  and  fagot  drain. 
I-san  tan-ka,***  feel  our  ire, 
Wa-kan-sche-cha,f|f  in  the  fire." 


•  Cliinook  jargon,  country  our.       f  C'liinook  jargon,  conc(ueroT. 
\  Cliinook  jargon,  bear.  ^  (Iiinook  jargon,  brave. 

II  Chinook  jargon,  buff.ilo.  f  Da-ko-ta,  Crow  Indian. 

**  Chinook  jargon,  fncniifs.  ff  Chinook  jargon,  circle  circle 

:j:|:  Santee,  water-god. 

^^  D.i-ko-t.i,  pleasant  sounds  of  the  breezes  in  the  grove. 
nil  Chinook  jargon,  dogs. 
f  f  Chinook  jargon,  crows  or  ravens. 
«*  Da-ko-ta,  Hig-Knife,  American, 
ttf  Da-ko-ta,  wa-kan,  mystery;  schc-cha,  bad  mystery,  devil. 


io6 


THE    TATTOOED  ARTIST. 


And  our  confulin-  artist,  what  of  his  Hiith  and  love 

For  persecuted  chieftain  and  loving  turtle-dove, 

And   brood  of  helpless   robins,  thrust   from   their  quiet 

nest  ? 
His  feelings  still  were  tender,  but — truth  must  be  con- 
fessed— 
Yearned  less  for  hosts  who  honored  than  for  their  honore<l 
guest. 


And  visions  fast  are  flashing  within  him  and  around, 
With  wonders  why  he's  tattooed  and   'mid   the  fagots 

bound  ; 
And  less  he  thanked  the  artists  than  cursed  his  coat  of 

paint, 
And  less  his  prayers  for  Indians  than  execrations  quaint, — 
Proof  that  one  may  die  a  martyr  who  still  is  not  a  saint. 

But  lo  !  the  proud  steamer  is  heaving  in  view, — 
**  Heap-heap  of  fine  frolic,  here  goes  for  one  new  ! 
"  Wa-wa  !"*  shouts  the  wizard,  as  hurliaig  the  brands 
And  scalping-knife  gleaming,  quick  severs  the  bands; 
From  the  fire  reels  our  hero,  and  bewilderingly  stands. 

The  wand  of  the  wizard  is  wafted  amain  ; 

Soon  a  gantlet-line  lengthy  is  formed  on  the  plain  ; 

Nude  chieftain  and  warrior,  buck,  pappoose,  and  squaw, 

And  curs  of  all  colors,  gaunt  bell;  and  maw  \ 

Such  greeting  and  parting  few  guests  ever  saw  ! 


Alas  for  our  artist !  scene  lively  and  quaint, — 
But  somehow  his  ardor  had  vanished  for  paint, - 


*  Wa-wa',  Chinook  jargon,  a  call ;  as,  hear  !  hear! 


THE   TATTOOED  ARTIST.  107 

And  theme  for  a  poet,  few  better  are  seen  ; 

lint  strangely  his  visions  were  not  with  his  thenie, 

But  afar  with  a  mother,  or  the  maiden  a  gleam. 


The  calliope's  trumpet,  enlivening,  he  hears. 

And  shouts  from  the  steamer,  loud  greeting  with  cheers. 

One  sigh  for  tiie  maiden  he's  seeking  to  find, 

One  spank  from  the  nude  one  he's  leaving  behind, 

And  into  the  gantlet  he  sails  like  the  wind  ! 

Oh,  were  I  a  poet  to  graphic  portray 
The  skill  of  our  bard  in  the  gantlet  and  fray, — 
With  switch,  knife,  or  fagot,  each  pappoose  in  place. 
Each  maid  with  her  larrup,  and  warrior  with  mace, 
To  prick,  switch,  or  gash  him,  then  join  in  the  cliase. 

Faith,  never  by  breech-clouts  such  running  was  seen  ; 
Such  twisting  and  turning  and  dodging  between  ; 
Thrusts  and  blows  that  were  aimed  at  our  hero  before 
Oft  sprawled  those  behind  him  in  howling  and  gore  ; 
Sure,  his  bison  helps  dodge,  and  his  eagle  helps  soar. 

Soon  out  of  the  gantlet  he  hies  him  amain. 
Leaving  yelling  pursuers  wide-spread  o'er  the  plain  ; 
But  the  whelps  of  all  sizes,  stride,  color,  and  breed, 
As  wolves  swarm  around  him,  ferocious  in  greed, 
Where  the  Indians  are  scattered,  delaying  his  speed. 


Alack  !   when  with  skill  he  was  dodging  a  brave, 
Whose  hatchet-blow  missed  him,  and  a  yelping  cur  clave, 
Another, — not  warrior,  but  cur, — with  a  yell. 
Grabbed  his  owlets  behind,  and  together  they  fell, 
Dogs,  poet,  and  warriors  commingled  pell-mell. 


io8 


THE    TATTOOED  ARTIST. 


ymX"' 


But  our  hero,  by  doubling  in  striking  the  ground, 
With  somersault  double,  ii  leap,  and  a  bound, 
Dogs,  wizard,  and  warriors  are  distanced,  and  found 
On  the  cactus-thorns  sprawling  or  howling  around, 
While  the  war-whoop  and  scalp-yell  redouble  the  sound  ; 

Nor  idle  our  friends  on  the  steamer,  whose  gun, 
Hurling  shell  'mid  the  warriors,  enlivens  the  fun  ; 
While  calliope-trumpet,  screaming  whistle,  and  bell. 
The  ringing  of  rifles,  the  shouting,  and  yell. 
From  the  stern-paddle  steamer  commingle  and  swell ! 

No  greeting  to  comrades,  nor  farewell  to  foes. 
Nor  brushing  of  ringlets,  nor  dusting  of  clothes; 
No  sketching  of  artist,  speech  of  wizard  or  seer, — 
In  plunges  our  poet, — no  river  hath  fear, — 
And  steamer  he  reaches  'mid  shouting  and  cheer. 

No  mirror  he's  seeking,  no  maiden's  caress, — 
Sure,  all  laud  his  running,  his  swimming,  and  dress  / 
His  greetings  as  artist  and  speedy  return. 
Such  lessons  of  friendship  as  few  ever  learn, 
And  totems  of  glory  as  glisten — and  burn. 

And  thus  from  his  sketching  our  artist  returns, 
All  covered  with  glory,  with  bruises,  and  burns ; 
Nor  thankful  for  tokens  or  totems  bestown, — 
Though  clothing  he  brought  none,  his  robe  is  his  own, 
Nor  changing  with  fashion,  nor  ever  outgrown  ! 

But  alas  for  our  poet,  scribe,  artist,  and  seer. 

The  maid  of  his  bosom  greets  him  back  with  a  jeer ! 


THE    TATTOOED   ARTIST. 


109 


"Oh,  where  is  iny  locket,  with  its  sweet,  smiling  face? 
For  an  ugly  sqiuiw-bartcred   breast   of  breech-clout    to 

grace  ? 
Then  come  ye  thus  tattooed  my  fair  name  to  debase?" 

And  the  patrons  of  science  were  little  less  rude  ; 
While  Adonis  and  Venus  they  worship  all  nude, 
The  artist  they  furnished,  who  a  model  returns, 
With  lofty  disdaining  their  modesty  spurns  I 
Worse  than  fagots  of  savage  such  ingratitude  burns ! 

But  just  as  cash,  courage,  and  patience  were  gone, 
His  tattooed  form  bending,  gaunt,  famished,  and  wan, 
The  tale  of  his  suffering  reached  Barnum  the  brave, 
Who  found  him  and  saved  him,  and  lasting  fame  gave— 
His  coat  of  lill  colors,  **  Tattooed,  captive,  and  slave  I" 

Thus  failing  untimely  as  an  artist  or  seer, 

And  savant  and  poet,— there  is  reason  to  fear,— 

His  harp  with  his  pencil  and  scrap-book  are  flung 

Where  wizard  ne'er  tattooed  nor  poet  e'er  sung; 

Hence  these  rude  strains  of  tribute,  with  harp  all  unstrung, 

To  the  seer  and  the  savage  !     Adieu,  I  am  done. 


10 


i 


*\  ! 

!1  i 


THE    MOSQUITO. 

In  eastern  vale  or  western  valley 

The  stagnant  pools  his  home  ; 
In  northern  marsh  or  warm  savanna, 

He  welcomes  those  who  roam  ! 

Not  Catlin's  brush  nor  Cooper's  cunning 

Can  paint  this  insect  true, 
Nor  Shakspeare's  Shylock  match  his  dunning, - 

For  blood  he  claims  his  due. 

With  fanning  wings  and  music  charming, 

Mosquitoes  lull  their  prey, 
Safe  chance  to  find,  without  alarming, 

To  steal  our  blood  away. 

But  in  thy  fertile  vales,  Missouri, 
And  by  the  Yellowstone, 
^  Like  hornet  hordes  aroused  to  fury, 
They  greet  us  to  their  home. 

Sure,  'tis  a  land  of  blood  and  slaughter. 

As  many  find  too  true ; 
With  mud  and  alkali  and  water, 

I  fear  I'm  feeling  blue  1 

Bestride  my  loping  steed  Deschoteau, 

'Mid  antelope  on  plain. 
Or  bison  herd  upon  the  coteau, 

I'll  cheerful  feel  again, 
no 


THE   MOSQUITO. 

E'en  thus  amid  life's  connicts  ever, 

As  (lay  succx'eds  the  night, 
Does  triumph  crown  each  firm  endeavor 

In  struggling  for  the  right. 

And  thou,  thou  "cussed"  little  fellow,— 
Blood-sucking  leech  of  prey,— 

Rip,  roar,  and  howl,  and  sing,  and  bellow  ! 
a  siaj)"— takes  thy  life  away  1 


111 


!   , 


FRIGHTENED    HANS. 

A  JOLLY   Hans,  of   Olmstcad,   full,  plucky,  plump,  and 

strong, 
Went    prosjjccting   a   homestead,    and    drove    his   team 

along ; 
"Come,"  quoth   he  to  his  Frait/ein,  and   to  his  kifiiy 

Schotiy 
"  So  ven  ve  pilds  der  cabin  ve  alls  can  help  along." 

Long,  long  they  chased  the  sunset  o'er  prairie,  buttc, 

and  plain. 
To  bask  in  fabled  Eden,  but  everywhere  in  vain  ; 
Still  Salter  seemed  the  waters,  and  shorter  grew  the  grass, 
***The  shining  sands  of  coteaus  reflecting  heat  like  glass. 

Weary,  faint,  and  sinking,  in  misery  and  woe, 

'Mid  vision  scenes  of  drinking,  where  waters  never  flow. 

Mountains  !  the  Rocky  Mountains  !  glad  they  greet  with 

cheers ; 
Mirage  of  gushing  fountains  dispel  their  frantic  fears. 

With  joy  and  hope  they  rally,  and  climb  the  rocky  crest; 
A  glorious  smiling  valley  lay  nestling  in  the  West : 
'•  Oh,  here  will  end  our  sorrow,  no  further  will  we  roam, 
But  joyful  on  the  morrow  will  choose  our  site  for  home." 


With  pail  in  hand,  dismounting,  for  water  for  the  team, 
Hans  hastens  to  the  fountain, — oh,  horrid  stench  and 
steam  ! 

112 


FK/Gf/TF.XEn  HANS. 


"3 


"Zulpliurl"    he   shouts  J    then   stooping,   hot,    foaming 

water  finds, 
And   hastening   from   tlic  basin,  gets  caught   in   border 

vines. 

"  Dhrive,  Sclion,'*  he   cries,  "mein  Sohn  /  for  zulphui 

sthrong  I  schmell. 
And  vater  hot  mit  jjiimstone,  for  sure  ze  burning  hell 
lie's  not  von  mile  from  dis  phlace  I     Dhrive  (piick  and 

fast,  mein  Sohn  ! 
Farewell,  mein  Irai^lein  Kathrinc  !     Got  save  mein  kinty 

Schon!" 

Attached  unto  the  legend  is  a  moral  sure  as  woe: 

In  scouting  a  new  region,  look  well  before  you  go. 

In  vales  of  stifling  brimstone  perchance  'tis  well  to  pray, 

But  glorious  greeting  geysers — unwise  to  run  away. 

Thus  sequel  sad  to  legend  adheres,  as  it  would  seem; 

For  Hans  and  John  and  Fraulein,  though  safe  'mid 
smoke  and  steam. 

Were  captured  by  the  Si-oux  in  their  causeless  stampede 
lone ; 

'^Fear  of  scalding  led  to  roasting  on  the  fated  Yellow- 
stone. 


h 


lO"-* 


I 


THE   WINDINC;    DKLL. 

Long  o'er  the  wastes  we've  wandered, 

Tlirough  cactus,  sage,  and  sand  ; 
By  lonely  watch  have  pondepcd 

O'er  scenes  in  native  land, — 
Of  mothers,  sires,  and  brothers, 

Of  sisters  kind  and  true, 
And  fond  farewell  of  lovers, 

As  gliding  from  their  view. 

And  oft  the  painted  savage 

Has  flanked  our  weary  way, 
On  steeds  by  day  to  ravage. 

At  night  with  barb  to  slay ; 
And  blanket-robed,  the  fallen 

We've  hidden  'neath  the  sod, 
With  throbbing  hearts,  then  left  them 

To  solitude — and  God  ! 

But  in  this  vale  of  verdure 

We  cease  the  wastes  to  roam. 
And  flocks  and  herds  will  nurture 

Around  a  cabin  home, 
And  soon  will  end  our  sorrow 

And  wandering  in  the  West, 
"Short  marching  on  the  morrow 

To  gain  our  park  of  rest. 


)) 


114 


THE  wixniNG  nFJ.r. 

Thus  spake  the  belted  ranger 

Unto  his  pilgrim  sire: 
*«  We're  done  with  trainj)  and  danger' 

Rang  round  the  bla/.ing  fire. 
Repast  of  eve  is  ended, 

The  vesper  chant  is  sung  ; 
In  cheering  carols  blended 

Are  voice  of  old  and  young. 


US 


As  when  the  heart  is  lightest 

Beware  of  ti«lings  drear, 
So  when  the  camp  is  brightest 

Oh,  watch  for  danger  near! 
Flash  I  sharp  the  rifle,  ringing 

Adown  the  winding  dell, 
And  deadly  bullet  singing 

To  ebbing  heart,  "  Farewell. 


And  feathered  barbs  are  flying 

Like  wintry  flakes  of  snow, 
And  ghastly  forms  are  lying 

As  strewn  by  torrents  flow. 
Scant  space  is  founil  to  "cover 

Around  the  camp-fire  bright, 
From  foes  that  lound  us  hover 

In  gloom  of  starless  night. 


But  vengeance  speeds  the  rally 
And  mounted  gun  the  boom  ; 

Fast  in  that  lovely  valley 
The  warrior  meets  his  doom. 


ii6  Tiiiu  \\'ixnn\c  nrj.i.. 

AikI  fiorrr  llic  <  l.iii;^  of  siihro, 
Tliat  tells  of  deadly  stroke  ; 

Strong  arm  has  ceased  to  labor, 
I'roiid  heart  in  death  is  broke. 

And  many  a  sumnier's  glory, 

And  many  a  winter's  snows, 
Shall  pass  ere  fades  the  story 

Of  how  these  mortal  foes 
Met  in  this  beauteous  valley, 

That  swells  this  winding  glen, — 
Met,  not  as  maidens  dally, 

Jiut  quenched  their  hale  like  men. 

And  yet  the  turf  shall  brighten 

With  verdure  where  they  fell. 
And  long  their  bones  shall  whiten, 

Adown  the  winding  dell. 
And  ere  his  race  shall  wither. 

Or  kindred  leave  the  vale. 
The  red  man  wandering  thither 

Shall  still  recount  the  tale. 

And  yet  shall  reaj)  the  yeoman 

The  gladdening  sheaves  of  grain, 
Where  hcart's-blood  of  the  foemen 

Have  fertilized  the  i)lain. 
And  yet  shall  children  i)rattle, 

And  yet  shall  maiden  tread 
In  i)eace  this  vale  of  battle. 

With  garlands  for  the  dead. 


AFAR    FROM   TIIK   CiriKS   AND    IIAMLKTS   OK 

MKN. 


"Afar  from  the  cities  and  hamlets  of  men, 
I  follow  the  streamlet  through  forest  and  glen  ; 
The  elk  with  proud  antlers  enlivens  the  bowers, 
And  brilliant  and  fragrant  the  meadows  with  (lowers. 

Still  onward  I  wander,  till  startled  by  fear, 
•'As  thunders  from  heavens  unclouded  I  hear, 
And  rainbows  I  witness  high  spanning  the  walls 
Of  cartons  deep  furrowed  by  lashing  of  falls. 

All  eager  I  hasten,  entranced  by  the  scene 
Of  cataracts  double  and  cascades  between. 
And  bright-tinted  buttress  to  pinnacles  high, — 
Base  deep  in  the  cafion,  crest  piercing  the  sky. 

All  heedless  of  danger,  by  wild,  winding  way, 
I  haste,  'mid  the  halos,  the  thunder,  and  spray, 
'"Adown  to  the  lichens,  mist-nourished  and  green, 
Where  the  floods  as  a  deluge  from  heaven  are  seen. 

All  breathless  in  elTorts  of  scaling  the  walls, 
'Mid  balsams  I  press  to  the  head  of  the  falls  ; 
And  there  'mid  the  spray  on  the  quivering  brink, 
Of  the  scenes  of  my  childhood,  far  distant.  I  think. 

As  then,  the  huge  boulders  in  rolling  amain 
I  greet  with  loud  shoutings,  re-echoed  again  ; 

117 


iiS 


Af'.iN  /-'/vM/  rnr.  c/r/Fs. 


^ 


And  coltMi's  arc  hurled  o'rr  tlu*  swifl-riishiiip;  stream, 
As  it  glides  from  my  view  like  a  phamom  ur  dream. 

'riieii  aloiiK'  the  wild  rapids,  by  ( edars  o'erhim^S 
Where  artist  ne'er  pencilled  nor  bird  ever  sung, 
And  fl()<)d-j;ates  of  torrents  from  mountains  of  snow 
Arc  echoing  beside  mc  above  and  below. 

And  here  in  this  grotto  deep-sheltered  and  warm, 
All  weary  I  slumber,  imheeding  the  storm, 
Whose  thunders  deep-rumbling  commingle  again 
With  the  ipray  of  the  waters  whence  gathers  the  rain. 

No  clouds  fleck  the  terrace,  no  winds  reach  the  glen, 
When  to  life  and  its  struggles  I  waken  again. 
And  pensively  ponder  o'er  scenes  that  are  fled, 
Of  hopes  that  are  vanished,  of  friends  who  arc  dead. 

And  life's  panorama  drear  passes  along. 
Mist-phantoms  tommingled  of  sorrow  and  song, 
Alluring  each  promise,  but  failure  attends, — 
Foes  only  are  steadfast,  inconstant  are  friends. 

Unselfish  I've  struggled  to  benefit  men, 
Regretless  I  leave  them,  my  refuge  the  glen. 
Where  mist-nourished  flowers  and  carpets  of  green 
Commingling  in  bowers  like  Eden  are  seen. 

''  Henceforth  be  my  music  the  cataract's  roar 
My  refuge  the  grotto,  to  leave  nevermore  ; 
Light  halos  encircling  my  winding-sheet  be, 
A  tomb  be  the  pool  of  this  grotto  for  me, 
And  the  rainbow  my  pathway  of  spirit  set  free  I 


on,  IS  Tni:kr:  in  riiis  world  so  drkar? 

Oh,  is  tluTo  in  this  world  so  drear 

A  s<  cnc  of  harrowing'  juin 
Like  haiiMlH  of  those  to  inotuory  dear 

We  iic'cr  shall  meet  attain  ? 

''In  cninihliiig  iiome  of  friends  afar 
The  wolf  and  vulture  <lwell, 
And  screams  and  howls  deriding  mar 
The  sienes  once  loved  so  well. 

7«  Above  the  ceaseless  dash  and  roar, 
Where  mountain  torrents  greet, 
The  famished  eagles  cin  ling  soar, 
And  fierce  coyoutas  meet. 

And,  all  imbidden,  memory  turns 

To  bloody  scenes  again, 
And  only  slumbering  ire  burns 

With  vengeance  for  the  slain. 

And  throbbing  heart  instinctive  swells, 

And  surging  [)ulse  is  wild. 
As  weai)ons  gleam  whose  ringing  knells 

Count  cou[)s*'  on  race  defiled. 

Will  tourist  yet  who  safely  roams 

With  buoyant  hope  and  tread, 
Flowers  pluck  amid  the  bleaching  bones 

Of  us,  the  unknown  dead  ? 


Scalps. 


119 


120      on,  IS  THERE  AV  THIS  WORLD  SO  DREAR '^ 

And  will  the  bards  here  yet  to  sing 

Know  aught  or  care  for  those 
Whose  music  was  the  rifle's  ring, 

And  couch  the  mountain  snows? 

Who  oft  alone  in  mountain  glen, 

Or  bands  in  valley  strife, 
As  heroes  lived,  and  died  as  men 

Who  dearly  sell  their  life? 

Oh,  is  there  land  of  peace  and  rest 

For  wanderers  below. 
Where  yet  the  weary  shall  be  blest, 
•    Where  soothing  waters  flow  ? 

Where  reunite  the  mountain  band. 
Where  each  shall  know  a  friend  ? 

And  dwell  for  aye  in  Mystic-Land, 
Where  kindred  si)irits  blend? 

Ah,  yes,  ah,  yes,  such  land  and  home. 

Such  rest  and  kindred  shore  ! 
Where  friends  shall  greet,  and  foes  may  come. 

But  meet  as  foes  no  more ! 


if 


\\k. 


l/v 


TO   THE    rH<:    AT    HOME. 

Oh,  thou  who  dreads  my  starti'ig, 

Far  o'er  ihe  West  to  ''oaiii, 
Whose  tears  endear  our  parting, 

Whose  smiles  allure  me  home  ! 

^'^  Far  away  on  the  cliffs  of  this  wild  roaring  river, 
I  remember  the  rill  near  the  cot  of  my  bride; 

Home-trail  with   that   bride   through  the  wild-wood  to- 
gether 
On  our  liiorning  of  union,  of  hope,  and  of  pride. 

Of  the  long  years  of  toil  and  of  hardships  together. 
Rude  tomb  of  our  first-born,  in  the  forest  alone ; 

Fond  hopes  o'er  the  fair  locks  of  those  we  thought  never 
Would  eager  forsake  us  for  strangers  unknown. 

or  the  dark  days  of  war,  of  bloodshed  and  sorrow, 
VvMien  thou  girded  my  sword  with  a  tear  and  a  prayer 

That  from  the  fierce  strife  and  the  carnage  of  morrow 
I  safe  might  return  to  thy  fond  arms  so  fair. 


In  the  halls  of  my  country,  when  the  conflict  was  o'er, 
Thy  soft  cheeks  were  blooming  with  pride  and  with 
love 

For  him  thou  dreamed  fondly  would  leave  thee  no  more 
Till  called  to  sweet  rest  in  the  mansions  above. 

F  II  121 


122 


TO    THE    TIE   AT  HOME. 


But  the  years  liave  rolled  onward,  our  children  are  gone; 

Time  has  blighted  our  vision,  our  tliin  locks  are  gray; 
In  a  far  distant  region  I'm  weary  and  'lorn  ; 

As  the  dew  of  the  morning  earth's  hopes  fade  away. 

Oh,  bright  through  the  cedars  the  visions  that  steal. 
The  light-circling  halos  ascending  in  spray  ; 

Oh,  pathway  is  this  to  the  land  o'  the  leal? 
And  life,  as  these  waters,  thus  gliding  away? 

Yet,  loved  one  to  me,  thou  art  still  ever  young ; 

All  rosy  thy  checks  and  bright  beaming  thine  eye  ; 
When  pale  are  these  roses,  life's  harp  sleeps  unstrung. 

In  the  green  groves  of  Eden,  oh,  meet  me  !    Good-by  I 


THE   WARRIOR'S   GRAVE. 

Faint  wane  the  hopes  of  loved  ones 
To  greet  their  honored  dead  ; 

Chill  howl  the  storms  of  winter 
Around  his  mountain  bed. 

Fierce  scream  the  wolf  and  raven 

Around  the  vacant  grave  ; 
Earnt.it  the  search  of  comrade 

For  relics  of  the  brave. 

73  A  mould' ring  plate  and  headboard, 
Carved  on  the  field  of  gore 

By  sword  of  faithful  comrade, — 
His  name  and  date,— no  more. 

These  records,  faint  but  truthful, 
Tell  where  he  fell  and  died ; 

Commingling  bones  of  foeman 
Bleach  on  the  mountain-side. 

Through  mountain  gorge  and  tempest, 

By  ancient  friend  alone. 
These  relics  of  our  hero 

Were  borne  to  friends  who  moan. 

Is  this  meet  tomb  for  hero 
On  countless  fields  of  strife  ? 

And  this  reward  for  yielding 
Home,  happiness,  and  life? 


123 


124 


THE    WANKlOirs   GRAVE. 


»'r 


Tis  not  a  realm  of  justice, 

Nor  yet  of  Eden's  bowers; 
Too  oft  of  wrong  and  suffering, 
This  cruel  world  of  ours. 


Oh,  rather  choose  the  sharing 
A  humble  home  of  love, 

And  wisely  there  preparing 
For  Eden's  bowers  above  ! 


I   SING   IN   SONGS. 

I  siNO  in  songs  of  gliding  lays 
Of  forest  scenes  in  border  days; 
Of  rippling  rills  in  valleys  green, 
And  mirrored  hills  in  lakelet  sheen  ; 
Of  mountain -peaks  begirt  with  snow, 
And  flowery  parks,  pine-girt  below; 
Of  daring  deeds  of  border  braves, 
On  dashing  steeds,  to  gory  graves ; 
Of  brawny  breast,  'neath  painted  i)lume. 
On  warrior's  crest,  in  dash  to  doom ; 
Of  light  canoe  on  dashing  shore. 
And  daring  crew,  who'll  row  no  more; 
Of  goblins  grim  and  cafions  grand, 
And  geysers  spouting  o'er  the  strand  ; 
Of  Mystic  Lake,  of  Wonder-Land  ; 

And  of  a  youth,  from  humble  home, 
To  parents*  help,  impelled  to  roam 
O'er  prairies  green  or  thirsty  plain. 
Or  dashing  streams,  that  mountains  drain  ; 
And  far  away  'mid  snows  to  roam. 
To  morsel  furnish  those  at  home  ; 
To  manhood  grown,  leaves  border  life, 
Prepares  a  home  and  seeks  a  wife ; 
Then  in  the  camp  or  council  pure, 
On  side  of  justice  ever  sure, 
Till  age  has  silvered  o'er  his  head, — 
Old  comrades  gone  and  loved  ones  dead, — 

II*  125 


126  /  S/NG   IN  SONGS. 

Still,  as  tlie  oak,  leafless  and  shorn, 
Amid  a  forest,  rent  and  torn. 
Still  cheerful  waiting  for  the  day 
From  earthly  cares  to  pass  away, 
With  life  well  spent,  and  promise  plain 
That  losing  earth  he'll  heaven  gain. 


I 


BLAZE   BRIGHTLY,  O  CAMP-FIRE! 

Blaze  brightly,  O  camp-fire  !  beneath  the  dark  pines, 
While  sadly  the  hunter  'mid  trophies  reclines. 
Blow  blithely,  O  zephyrs  !   from  sweet-scented  vales, 
To  blending  untimely  in  moaning  and  wails, 
'Mid  snow-crested  mountains  in  fierce  howling  gales. 

How  oft,  'neath  the  branches  of  cedars  low  bent. 
Or  clustering  balsams,  for  refuge  intent, 
Have  I,  when  benighted  in  fiist-falling  snow. 
Found  slielter  and  comfort  by  camp-fire  aglow 
That  none  but  a  climber  of  mountains  can  know  1 

And  there  have  I  pondered,  all  pensive  and  lone, 
On  days  tliat  are  vanished,  on  hopes  that  have  flown. 
My  birthplace  a  cottage  in  warm  flowery  grove, 
Kind  parents  and  brothers  and  sisters  to  love. 
And  Bible  and  Sabbaths  to  point  me  above. 

All  peaceful  my  slumbers,  all  happy  my  home; 
No  visions  of  dangers,  no  longings  to  roam; 
An  Eden  in  promise,  no  Eden  to  prove, 
But  a  thorn  with  a  rosebud,  a  blighting  in  love, 
And  far  from  that  Eden  I  wander  and  rove. 


All  slowly  but  surely  time  passes  away ; 
'Neath  willows  low  bending  friends  mingle  with  clay; 

127 


'  f 


138 


BLAZE   liRiaHTL  V,  O  CAMPFIRE 


Uncounted,  in  circles  the  seasons  have  fled  ; 
Unnoticed,  these  tresses  are  bleaching  my  head ; 
Unconscious,  I'm  ncaring  the  rest  of  the  dead. 

Howl,  tempest !  befitting,  the  thunders  that  roll, 
This  turmoil  in  bosom,  this  quaking  of  soul. 
A  long  life  reviewing  of  folly  and  pain. 
All  bubbles  its  i)leasures,  its  struggles  in  vain, 
'•^Earth's  treasures  all  vanished,  no  heaven  to  gain. 


UNION  OF   THE   VALLKYS. 

Where  the  broad,  romantic  valley  of  the  dashing  Yellow- 
stone 

Greets  Missouri's  turbid  waters,  far  toward  the  setting 
sun, 

Where  the  Man-dan  and  the  'I'e-ton,  with  the  Yank  ton 
and  the  Crow, 

And  the  bloody  Black-foot  Pe-gan,  with  the  British  Knis- 
te-naux. 

Meet  in  battle  on  the  war-horse,  or  in  bull-boat  float  at 
ease. 

There  was  built  the  stockade  "  Union,"  a  mart  of  fur 
amid  the  Rees. 

Long  around  that  distant  station  gathered  rovers  of  the 

plain, 
White  and  red,  of  every  nation,  such  as  ne'er  shall  meet 

again  ; 
"  For  the  ever-fickle  river  veered  away  to  meet  its  mate, 
7"  And  the  fort,  its  cache  and  lodges,  were  abandoned  to 

their  fate. 
Garnered  scenes,  by  sketch  of  Stanley,  Catlin's  brush,  or 

Irving's  pen. 
Of  trappers  true  and  voyageurs,  alone  survive  those  daring 

men. 


Now  again  the  painted  warrior,  'mid  the  ruins  of  the  past. 

Builds  his  teepee  and  his  earth-lodge,  master  of  the  site 

at  last. 
i  i2g 


130 


(W'jox  oi'  iiiE  It /././<:  VS. 


w 


Swcol  and  pleasant  is  the  memory  of  otir  youtliful  friends 

and  braves  ; 
Sad  and  lonely  'lis  to  wander  o'er  their  foc-hctrodden 

graves ; 
Hut  the  ever-restless  white  man  savage  tribes  can  ne'er 

withstand  ; 
Soon  tile  pale-fare  rare  shall  ronqncr  and   possess  that 
alley  land. 


i| 


Then,  perchance,  o'er   graves   of   comrades    whom    the 

pain  toil  savage  slew 
Cypress  boughs  and  wreaths  of  laurel  sliall  entwine  o'er 

warriors  true. 
''Oh,  for  bard  to  ciiant  their  requiem!     Oh,  for  storied 

j)en  to  save 
From  the  silence  of  oblivion   legends  of  the  true  and 

brave  ! 
Like  the  union  of  these  valleys,  may  their  spirits  meet 

and  blend  ! 
Like  these  waters,  ever  gliding,  may  their  happiness  ne'er 

end  ! 


l! 


lU 


.'II 


%. 


:r 


U 


on,   I'OR    nARI)   TO   TRULY    IKKASURi:  I 

""On,  for  Inird  to  truly  treasure 
IJonlcr  scenes  of  days  agonc  I 
And  in  strains  of  tlirilling  measure 
Garner  deeds  else  soon  unknown, 
Forest  scenes  ere  long  o'ergrown  ! 

Now  of  daring  deeds  of  yconicn 
Round  their  cabins  in  the  wilds, 

Then  of  voyageurs  when  the  foenien, 
IJy  their  ever  crafty  guiles, 
Drove  them  to  the  distant  isles  ! 

As  of  Hans  along  the  Hudson, 

Then  the  wild  Manhattan  shore, — 

Now  a  mart  of  matchless  s})lendor, 
'IMiat  no  cloud  in  passing  o'er 
Mirrored  in  ihe  days  of  yore. 

Thus,  perchance,  the  haunt  of  trappers, 
Or  the  gidch  where  miners  dwell. 

Searching  for  the  hidden  treasures, 
Shall  for  toil  reward  them  well, 
And  the  wealth  of  nations  swell. 

Even  thus  the  bard  in  singing 
Strains  of  those  who  fighting  fell 

By  the  bolts  from  rifles  ringing. 
For  himself  may  harvest  well, 
And  the  works  of  knowledge  swell. 


I  .t 


II 


)   I 


kustk:  ijkiihii:  and  ckvsiai,  iai.i.s. 

•"  Will,  ihi'^c  tfit  tluit  trip  so  lightly 
O'er  tliis  slriic  lure  nuK-  but  ^lr()ii[j, 
Or  llicsc  eyes  wliich  beam  so  brightly, 
li'er  greet  scenes  more  meet  for  hong? 


Skipping  rill  from  snowy  fountains 
Dashing  through  cinbow'red  walls, 

Kiiry  dell  'mid  frowning  mountains, 
Grutto  pool  and  Crystal  Falls. 


C'harming  dell,  begin  with  wonders, 
Mighty  falls  on  either  hand, 

(^>uiet  glen  amid  their  thunders, 
Matchless,  save  in  Wonder-Laiul. 


O'er  their  mingltd  n^ists  and  shadows 
Rainbows  beauteous,  tinted,  rise, 

And  their  ever-changing  halos 
Blend  and  vanish  in  the  skies. 


Shy  beneath  the  crystal  waters, 
In  the  grotto  of  the  glen. 

Sylvan  forms  of  nature's  daughters 
Si)ort  and  bathe  unseen  by  men. 


•((..  ;i 


»:> 


il 


134      A'UST/C  BRIDGE   AND   CRYSTAL    I'AT'.S. 


Here  \vc  part,  perchance  forever, 
In  ot;r  i)ilgriinagc  below  ; 

Yet  in  scenes  like  this  together, 
Above  uKiy  we  each  other  knov.  ! 


,.,  *l: 


it       I 


HIGH   TOWERS   THE   CRAGGY   SUMMIT. 

High   towers  the  craggy  summit,  begirt  with  glistening 

snow, 
Mirrored  in  emerald  lakelets  in  flowery  vales  below ; 
Proud  soars  the  fearless  eagle  around  the  frozen  crest, 
Low,  'mid  the  blooming  daisies,  the  turtle  builds  her  nest; 
Down  verdant  sloping  terrace  flow  sweetly  gliding  rills, 
Roars  cataract  like  thunder  in  echoes  'mid  the  hills; 
The  woolly-sheep  and  big-horn  trail  deep  in  mountain 

snow. 
And   beavers  build   their -wick-e-ups  where  warm   the 

waters  flow. 


82 


I 


m 


^^Gigpntic  wrecks  of  forests,  all  fossilized  to  stone, 
By  trading  vines  and  cedars  are,  trellis-like,  o'ergrown ; 
Through  Pjwery  vales  the  river  meanders  on  its  way 
To  cataiact  and  canon,  their  thunder,  mist,  and  spray; 
And  vales  of  blooming  roses  are  sheltered  deep  and  warm 
Amid  the  towering  mountains,  where  howls  the  Alpine 

storm  ; 
Willi  zephyr-hiss,  the  ripples  glide  laughing  to  the  shore. 
Where  tempest-driven  billows  terrific  dash  and  roar  I 


In  all  these  blooming  valleys,  along  each  crystal  stream. 
And  snow-encircled  lakelet,  where  quivering  halos  gleam. 
These  labyrinths  of  goblins,  and  spouting  geysers  grand, 
Unnumbered  are   the   marvels  throughout  the  Wonder- 
Land  ; 

13s 


,     1 


i     I 

I 

i 


136       ///C7//   TOU'F.A'S    THE    CRAGGY  SUMMIT. 

As  wintry  storms  Ixiild  snow-fields,  and  summer  breezes 

thaw, 
'^'•All  nature  seems  in  contrast,  in  l)eauty,  size,  or  awe, — 
Creation y  groivth^  and  ruin^  the  universal  law  ! 


ill 


I 


-«w »^iwrW»..«»<MmgihWWi  II  4w^»i^^T^lril^M».— wmMfcip^mwai**'— "  "■  ■■ 


LONELY   GLEN. 


«s  'Tis  lion's  scream  resounding 

Adown  the  lonely  glen, 
Like  those  once  here  astounding, 

From  throats  of  savage  men  ; 
When  angry  rifle  ringing, 

And  scorching  suli)hur  smoke. 
And  deadly  bullet  singing, 

The  luring  silence  broke  ! 

Plumed  warriors  fierce  and  savage, 

With  hatchet,  lance,  and  knife, 
The  camp  of  tourist  ravage, 

And  seek  the  owner's  life ; 
Too  late  is  flight  for  safety. 

And  fight  wi<-'^  savage  vain, — 
Soon  crimson  rill  joins  torrents 

That  snowy  mountains  drain  ! 

Are  these  the  brands  of  camp-fire  ? 

And  theirs  this  battered  plate  ? 
From  wounded  here  the  death-cry, 

For  mercy  came  too  late  ! 
Yes,  but  the  day  is  dawning 

Athwart  the  morning  star. 
To  saddle  fast,  a  warning, 

For  duty  calls  afar. 

12* 


137 


f" 


Hi 


i 


i   " 


REYNOLDS'S    DIRGIi. 

On,  know  ye  the  coteaiis  and  valleys  between^ 
The  rose-tinted  bovvers  and  meadows  of  screen, 
And  pure  crysta:   ••••^;r    from  mountains  of  snow, 
Encrimsoned  by  c.        ^'e  that  curdled  its  flow 
With  steeds  and  their  riders,  and  foemen  in  strife, 
Commingled  and  falling  'neath  hatchet  and  knife? 
And  the  rose  on  the  coteau  was  tinted  again 
With  crimson  fast  spouting  from  wounds  of  the  slain, 
When  Ouster  led  phalanx  of  heroes  as  bold 
As  the  Greeks  or  the  Romans  in  legends  of  old 
To  ambush  and  slaughter,  and  mourning  in  homes 
Afar  from  where  tempests  are  bleaching  their  bones.  . 

I've  trailed  o'er  that  coteau  and  roamed  o'er  that  plain  j 
In  that  valley  built  camp-fire  'mid  bones  of  the  slain. 
^My  fagots  were  ruins  of  teepee  and  tent, 
'Mid  war-robes  and  blankets  all  gory  and  rent. 
There  at  eve  came  the  spirit  of  Charley  the  bold, 
Not  gory,  but  blooming,  the  hero  of  old. 
And  this  was  his  greeting :   "All  welcome,  my  friend  ! 
The  clay  thou  art  seeking  has  gone  with  the  wind ; 
My  few  bones  remaining  by  the  willow  so  lone 
Take  homeward  returning  to  rest  with  thine  own. 
But  birthplace  or  kindred  cease  efforts  to  trace, — 
The  hatchet  has  slaughtered  the  last  of  my  race." 


138 


VES,    BE  IT  THUS. 

Yes,  be  it  thus ;  the  die  is  cast, 

The  fatal  word  is  spoken  ; 
The  halo-cloud  of  charming  past 

And  chain  of  bondage  broken. 
Oh,  'mid  the  gloom  of  coming  years, 

Will  dreams  of  friends  forsaken, 
Or  shrunken  cheeks,  too  dry  for  tears, 

Remorse  or  shame  awaken  ? 


J 


Will  visions  then  of  happy  days 

In  snow-girt  park  or  valley. 
And  cheering  dreams  of  camp-fire  blaze, 

And  loving  song  and  sally. 
Blend  sweet  with  those  of  wavy  brow. 

Where  pledges  fair  were  riven. 
And  quivering  lips  renew  the  vow 

To  meet  again  in  heaven  ? 


139 


IN   CABIN,  CAMP,  OR   COUNCIL. 

"7  In  cabin,  camp,  or  council,  in  husbandry  or  war. 
In  sunny  native  valleys  or  snowy  mountains  far. 
Two  kindred  spirits  blended,  alike  their  acts  and  aims, — 
Their  earthly  duties  ended,  together  find  their  names. 
Mount   Washburn   and    Mount   Norris   like   battlements 

arise ; 
O'er  cataract  and  canon  their  summits  pierce  the  skies; 
Path-seeker  and  path-maker,  personified  to  stand, 
Enduring  guide  for  tourists  throughout  the  "Wonder- 
Land." 


140 


r    ■ 


YKS,  EVKRY   ONE   A    MAN. 


li' 


rvK  trailed  the  proud  Missouri 

Till  fountain  rill  I  stride, 
And  founts  of  the  Missoula, 

Adown  the  sunny  side  ; 
Till  countless  rills  in  blending 

A  mighty  river  form, 
And  from  the  Hell -Gate  Cafion 

I  greet  a  valley  warm. 

And  here  a  town  I  enter, 

A  shoeing  shop  and  mill, 
A  tavern  in  the  centre. 

And  corral  on  the  hill  ; 
A  score  of  earth -roofed  cabins, 

A  rum  and  gambling  lair, 
John  Chinaman  and  laundry. 

And  teepees  here  and  there. 


And  lo  !  a  belted  ranger, 

A  chum  in  days  of  yore, 
ShoLts,  **  Well,  how  are  you,  stranger? 

Let's  shake  your  paw  once  more." 
Full  soon  wc  drank  to  courage, 

And  loud  the  toast  and  song. 
And  glasses  quaffed  to  comrades 

Far  o'er  the  mountains  gone. 


141 


I 


if. 


/ 


m 


142  YF.S,  EVERY  ONE   A    MA IV. 

And  in  the  morn  wc  ramble 

IJcsidc  ii  mountain  rill, 
Till  silent  camp  wc  enter 

Upon  a  sunny  hill ; 
And  here  wc  halt  to  ponder 

IJesidc  each  turfy  home 
Of  those  who're  done  with  wandering, 

Of  those  who've  ceased  to  roam. 

And  here  we  gaze  in  silence 

Upon  the  hillocks  green, 
The  moaning  pines  and  balsams, 

And  brilliant  flowers  between, 
Until  my  ancient  comrade, 

With  quivering  lip  and  breath, 
Recalls  each  name  and  story, 

And  manner  of  his  death. 

"Beneath  this  branched  cedar 

Sleeps  comrade  true  and  brave, 
Who  ever  trod  the  war-path 

The  innocent  to  save  ; 
But  as  the  rescuing  seaman 

Oft  sinks  beneath  the  wave, 
So  Harry  fell  for  others. 

And  here's  his  lowly  grave. 

"  Here's  Ned,  the  daring  trapper 

Along  the  Yellowstone, 
Who  scaled  the  snowy  mountains, 

And  gulches  trod  alone  ; 
But  while  he  trapped  the  beaver, 

To  sell  his  coat  so  fair, 


•ii)ii^l»>ii«M»Wmiiii<  ■■»■  ■» 


}7i\S',  EVERY  ONE   A    MAN. 

'i'lie  IJannocks  trailed  the  trapper 

Unto  his  brushy  hiir, 
Ami  here  his  hones  are  mould' ring, 

While  they  retain  his  hair. 

"  Here's  Jark  and  Hill,  the  brothers, 

Who  ^eft  a  happy  home, 
And  loving  friends  and  sweethearts, 

The  western  wilds  to  roam 
In  search  of  gold  and  romance 

B\it  trailed  and  toiled  in  vain  ; 
While  bravely  fighting  Koot-nays* 

Were  numbered  with  the  slain, 
And  their  bleaching  bones  we  gathered 

Along  the  Coeur  d'Alcne.f 

"  When  melting  snows  were  foaming 

Adown  the  Blackfoot  Gorge, 
En  route  from  winter's  roaming, 

Encamped  was  daring  George 
Upon  a  narrow  terrace. 

Beneath  its  rocky  walls, 
Whence  icy  waters  swept  him 

Relentless  o'er  the  ftdls. 

**Upon  the  roaring  Loo-Loo, 

In  howling  wintry  storm, 
Nor  fire  nor  tent  nor  teepee, 

Or  robe  to  keep  them  warm. 
These  brothers  braved  the  tempest 

Till  chilled  was  curdling  tide, 
Then  robed  in  snowy  blankets, 

Together  clasped  they  died. 


M3 


*  Indians  of  the  Koot-e-nay  tribe, 
f  Pronounced  cor-de-lane. 


i 


s  \ 


I  11 


•  J 


1 


144 


r 


)7:S,  EVEKY  OXE   .1    M.LV. 

•*  Nor  least,  but  last  and  saddest, 

The  fate  of  <()iurades  here, 
Who  closed  a  drhikiiig  frolic 

Around  a  bloody  bier  ; 
And  then  their  wrathful  comrades. 

As  vigilants  arrayeil, 
O'er  forked  pine  threw  lasso,  ♦ 

And  in  a  noose  each  swayed, 
And  sadly  'neath  these  willows 

In  morn  these  three  were  laid. 

"Ah,  yes,  their  vigils  keeping, 

Above  the  torrent's  roar, 
Each  peacefully  is  sleeping, 

All  here  the  twenty-four, 
All  here  in  glory  lying, 

From  foe  no  coward  ran, 
Each  spur  and  booted  dying. 

Yes,  every  one  a  man  !" 


i« 


:j  1 


Tin-:  AKTisr  stanlkv. 

()  artist!  true  artist  I  who  far  in  the  West, 
O'er  coulee  and  coteaii  and  bleak  niotnitain-crcst, 
'Mid  Mo-doc  and  Man-dan,  llriile,  Mlack-fool,  and  Crow, 
Bronzed  tee[)ee  and  totem,  laiK  e,  (luivcr,  and  how! 

O  painter !  wlio  painted  o'er  prairie  and  plain 
The  lodge  of  the  living,  the  cairn  of  the  slain, 
Proud  plume  of  the  warrior,  and  maiden  so  shy, 
And  prisoner  firm-bound  'mid  the  fagots  to  die  I 

O  limner!  bold  limner!  on  war-trail  c  street. 
On  moor  or  on  mountain  no  more  shall  we  meet ; 
Thy  paintings  portray  thee  more  life-like  than  song, 
More  valued  and  lauded  as  time  glides  along  I 

O  Stanley  !  brave  Stanley  !   thy  rambles  are  o'er. 
And  brush  laid  aside,— thou  wilt  need  it  no  more  ! 
^But    "Uncas"   and  "War-path"   and    "Signal"   shall 
stay 

When   thy  head,  heart,  and  hand  have  long  mouIderM 
away. 

O  Eden  !  pure  Eden  !  sweet  home  of  the  blest. 
Where  the  brave  and  the  loving  in  harmony  rest, 
May  painter  and  poet  in  ecstasy  blend 
With  saints  and  with  angels  in  bliss  without  end  ! 
''        '^  '3  145 


|! 


r 

! 


\ 


146 


MIN  NK  HA  HA. 


llKKM/r.s  l>riskly  l)l()\viiig, 
Waters  brightly  llowiiig, 
'I'hiiie,  Min-nc-lui-ha. 
Warriors  hohl  are  banished, 


M; 


(liixk 


hcd. 


iKlciis  (iM»ky  vanished, 
l''r(jm  Min-no-lia-ha. 
Another  race  are  sowing, 
Or  witii  chariots  mowin;; 
liOvely  cities  growing, 


B' 


Kouiul  Min-ne-1 


la-iKi. 


Until  time  be  ended 
l{e  thy  beauties  blendedj 
Sweet  Min-ne-ha-ha  1 


LOVKLY    RIVI'.R. 

Fr.ow  on,  thoti  lovely  rivi-r ! 

(lo  smiling  on  thy  way, 
And  m'athcrcd  (loods  dolivor, 

In  thunder,  mist,  and  spray. 
Amid  tiic  arching'  raiid)()\vs, 

High  o'er  the  iriple  fldls, 
Where  (piivering  mystic  halos 

liright  tint  the  tafion  walls. 

I'^'cn  thus  may  life,  in  gliding 

Adown  the  stream  of  lime, 
Glean  wealth  and  worth  abiding 

From  many  a  sunny  clime. 
Nor  soul  on  brink  to  shiver, 

But  boldly  launch  away. 
Joyous  to  meet  its  Giver 

In  realms  of  radiant  day. 


.1 


»47 


}  i 


*  ;i 


I: 


BURIAL   TEEPKE. 

Amid  the  Judith  Bad  Lands,  beside  the  Mussel-shell, 
^'^The  Ab-sa-ra-ka  chieftain  most  b'^avely  fightinp;  fell ; 
Fighti'.ig  the  Si-oux  savage,  to  save  his  pale-face  friend, 
His  list  of  gallant  battles  came  to  a  glorious  end. 

When  the  bloody  strife  was  ended,  and  weapons  ceased 

to  gleam 
Within  the  snowy  cailon  and  along  the  sunny  stream, 
'Mid  reekin.^  scalps  of  foemen,  lashed  to  his  steed  of 

foam, 
In  triumph  sad  they  bore  him  unto  his  silent  home. 


I  '?E 


ft 

r 


In  gorgeous  war-tent  teepee  once  captured  from  his  foes, 
He's    near    Camp    Lewis  sleeping,    in    dreamless,   sweet 

repose. 
With  lance  and  cross  o'er  doorway,  rich  trophies  there 

abound, 
With   Black-feet   scalps   above  him,   and    Si-oux   scalps 

around  ; 

To-tems  of  saint  and  savage,  of  white  man  and  of  red, 
In  brilliant  colors  painted  above  the  mighty  dead  ; 
There  let  him  rest  in  triumpli,  and  moulder  into  dust, 
His  spirit's  with  Wa-kan-da,  on  whom  he  set  his  trust. 


MS 


..    A 


BOLD   TRAPPER   OF   THE   CAMP-FIRE. 


5°  Bold  trapper  of  the  camp-fire 
In  thy  daring  days  of  youth, 
Meek  Christian  vvlien  a  grandsire 
On  the  homeward  trails  of  truth. 


J  ■\ 


Proud  rover  of  the  mountains, 
Scaled  thou  oft  the  snowy  crest; 

In  vale  of  emerald  fountains 
Lowly  is  thy  couch  of  rest. 

Thy  war-path  days  are  ended. 
Ranch  in  heaven's  park  begun ; 

There  may  our  trails  be  blended, 
And  our  camps  and  comrades  one  ! 


U' 


149 


i 


i     ' 


I     ! 


f  -ti 


I 


i 


THE   WARRIOR'S   DIROr:. 

"'  Gone,  brave  brother,  gone  from  the  suffering  and  strife, 
Commencing  witlj  birth,  only  ending  with  life; 
Through  the  red  fields  of  war  spared  in  safety  to  roam, 
Life's  duties  all  o'er,  rest  with  loved  ones  at  home. 

May  thy  myrtle-wreaths  won  in  the  blooming  of  youth, 
In  the  halls  of  the  schools  or  the  chapels  of  truth, 
Entwine  with  the  laurel-bays  earned  on  the  field, 
Where  glory  is  carved  by  the  sabre's  bold  wield  ! 

And  who  are  thy  friends  in  the  land  o'  the  leal. 
The  warriors  in  mail,  with  their  helmets  of  steel, — 
A  Wallace,  a  Bruce,  or  an  archer,  as  Tell, 
In  triumph  who  lived,  or  in  victory  fell? 

And  still  dost  thou  view,  on  the  coteau  or  plain. 
Charge  of  golden-haired  chief  to  the  carnage  again  ; 
And  thy  comrades,  alas  !  all  lifeless  and  lorn. 
Asleep  where  they  fought,  'mid  the  cactus  and  thorn? 

And  view  ye  the  reapers,  v/ith  carbine  and  sword, 

In  the  field  of  war-bonnets  and  plumes  by  the  ford  ; 

And  the  riderless  steeds,  careering  again, 

O'er  the  thick-scattered  sheaves  on  the  harvest  of  slain? 

Avaunt  with  such  deeds  by  the  dwellers  of  earth  ! 
Tne  grim  scenes  of  war,  or  its  revels  and  mirth  ! 
Far  better  the  acts  and  the  mansions  of  those 
Who  pruning-hookb  make  of  the  spears  of  their  foes 
150 


■  1 


' 


THE    WARRIOR'S  DIRGE. 


15J 


Ho,  signal  the  giants  of  carnage  and  gain  ! 
Come,  spend  ye  a  night  with  the  ghosts  of  your  slain  ! 
Then  turn,  if  ye  will,  to  your  slaughter  and  lust. 
Brief  heyday  of  revel,  then  moulder  in  dust. 

And  where  the  immortal,  the  God-given  soul? 
Its  mansion  eternal,  is  heaven  its  goal, 
Or  sinks  it  in  sorrow  with  spirits  akin. 
Their  sharers  in  crime  and  the  heralds  of  sin? 

Oh,  better  the  reapers  with  sickles  of  right. 
Who  cleave  for  the  gleaners  of  freedom  and  light ; 
And  as  sheaves  from  the  harvest  they  bring  at  its  close, 
Bright  bundles  of  friends  they  have  won  of  their  foes. 

Soul -cheering  the  hope  of  a  land  far  away. 
And  the  reveille  call  at  the  dawn  of  the  day, 
When  the  heroes  of  earth  shall  immortal  ascend. 
With  laureis  bedecked  and  where  angels  attend. 


■  t 


;    I 


> 


:i' 


1  f 

.J ' 


'^ 


CYPRESS   SHADOWS. 

''''VVherr  the  long  reeds  (luiver,  wlicrc  the  pines  make 

n.oan, 
By  the  forest  river  sleeps  our  bab'^  alone.'' 
'I'hus  a  yearning  motlier,  in  a  flowery  grove, 
Seeks  her  soi)s  to  smother  with  a  chant  of  iove : 
"England's  field-flowers  blooming  may  not  deck  his  grave; 
Cypress  shadows,  looming  o'er  him,  darkly  wave.' 


>  1 


"  Far  away  we  journeved  from  our  native  land, 
O'er  the  briny  ocean,  o'er  the  burning  sand  ; 
For  my  loved  ones  hoping,  thus  I  wandered  far, 
Hence  this  loving  bosom  bears  a  cureless  scar. 
'Neath  the  pine-tops  moaning,  in  his  lowly  grave. 
Leave  I  a  pledge  of  heaven,  other  gems  to  save. 

*'  In  my  weary  wanderings  to  a  '    id  afar, 
In  my  camp-fire  visions  will  a  twinkling  star, 
'Mid  the  waving  shadows,  smiling  sweet  and  fair. 
From  the  azure  heaven?.,  guide  me  where  you  arc, — 
Not  this  tomb  so  lowly,  where  the  sliadows  lie. 
But  in  regions  holy,  far  beyond  the  sky? 

"Hence,  in  wanderings  dreary  in  the  mighty  West, 
When  my  way  is  weary  and  my  heart  oppressed, 
As  I  count  my  jewels,  shall  this  shining  star 
Fill  the  broken  circlet,  and  guide  me  where  )  )U  are,^ — 
Not  beneath  the  cypress,  'mid  the  forest  gloom. 
But  in  bowers  of  Eden,  bright  with  love  and  bloom  ?" 
152 


' 


i   1 


I'VE   TRAILED   THE    PROUD   COLUMBIA. 

I'VE  trailed  the  proud  Coli;mbia,  from  fountain-head  in 

sncws, 
To  'vrhere  the  bold  Shoshone  through  lava-desert  flows ; 
Have  crossed  the  pass  St.  Regis  and  lakeof  Caurd'Alene, 
The  lovely  glades  of  Camas  and  lava-girt  Spokane  ; 
Have  searched  the  lovely  grottos,  and  scaled  their  rugged 

walls, 

And  traced  the  Peluse  turbid  unto  its  sacred  falls. 

55  And  here  I  pause  and  ponder  at  trace  of  friend  of  old, 
An  orphan  left  to  wander  before  the  days  of  gold. 
A  home  he  found  in  teepee  of  Spokane  chieftain  true. 
And  rollicked  with  the  kam-ooks,*  and  as  a  pappoose 
grew; 

With  squaws  he  dug  the  camas,  the  maize  he  learned  to 

grind, 
And  strode  the  loping  pinto,  with  naked  squaw  behind. 

Nor  aught  knew  he  of  kindred,  nor  cared  he  for  his  race, 
Until  his  form  expanded  and  bearded  grew  his  face. 
"Than  water  blood  is  thicker"  is  proverb  old  and  true, 
And  thus  his  race  he  cherished  in  seeking  comrades  new; 
And  when  the  blazing  signal,  from  mountain-crest  afar. 
Warned  him  of  bloody  onset  and  unrelenting  war 
By  friends  of  his  adoption  against  those  of  his  birth, 
With  parting  kiss  to  sister,  he  boldly  sallied  forth. 


*  Kam'-ooks,  clogs. 


': 


153 


^'54 


I'VI'.    TR.MI  h.n    THE    PROVD   COLUMBIA. 


\\\  vain   the  war-wliooj)   ringing   roused  warriors  to  his 

trail ; 
Nor  deadly  bullet  singing,  nor  loping  steeds  prevail. 
His  pinto  through  the  valley  far  led  them  in  the  chase, 
Then  swam  the  Umatilla,  and  proudly  won  the  race  ; 
Nor  checked   his  foaming  charger  till  in  his  youth  and 

pride, 
IJeneath  the  flag  of  Steptoe,  he  fought  as  scout  and  guide. 


Full  soon  the  conflict  opens  upon  Columbia's  plain, 
And  in  the  mountain  valleys  that  foaming  torrents  drain; 
Nor  time  to  let  the  story  of  fighting,  fierce  and  long, 
'Twixt  those  who  fought  for  glory  and  those  who,  doubly 

strong, 
Fought  in  their  native  valleys,  fought  o'er  their  fathers' 

graves, 
Fought  by  their  blazing  teepees,  and  'mid  their  dying 

braves, 
Chose  death  in  gory  blankets  to  life  as  cringing  slaves. 


i    I 


Thus  back  they  iiurled*  the  pale-fare  when  Stcptoe's  fight 

was  o'er, 
And  to  the  Peluse  sacred  their  trail  was  red  with  gore. 
That  weary  moons  the  remnant  they  sorely  did  invest, 
With  famished  pinto  rations  those  l)leaching  bones  attest; 
And  only  for  the  salmon  that  crowd  the  narrow  stream, 
No  pale-fbice  from  that  canon  would  living  e'er  been  seen  ; 
For  lo  I  an  old  tradition  of  generations  gone 
Declared  the  salmon  sacred  below  the  falls  to  spawn, 
Till,  lest  the  sacred  fishes  should  feed  the  foe  they  fear, 
The  Chenooks  check  their  running  with  brushy  dam  and 

weir. 


rVE    TRAILED    THE    PROUD   COl.UMlilA.      155 

Oft  in  liis  pangs  of  liunger  onr  youth  would  hear  fn)in 

those 
Mc  left  in  Jiour  of  clanger  to  aid  their  mortal  foes. 
When   from  the  cliff  the  chieftain,  at  eve  when  all  was 

still, 
Would   ring  the  clarion  war-whoop  in  echoes  from  the 

hill, 
With  taunting  jeers,  "  Mo,  Sko-kum  !"''  ho,  traitor  Til-la- 

koom  !f 
Your  Il-li-hu;};  you're  viewing,  and  soon  you'll  meet  your 

doom  I 
I!o,  reared  ye  in  my  teepee,  you  knave  in  long-knife  hire! 
You  traitor  to  my  chuJrcn,  you  soon  shall  feel  my  ire, 
In  running  of  the  gantlet  or  roasting  in  the  fire  ! 


**  But  lest  your  death  be  speedy,  a  morsel  choice  I  give  ; 
For  while  I'm  reaping  vengeance  I  want  you  still  to  live," 
As  the  shank  of  a  cay-ou-ta,  or  skull  of  car-a-bou. 
Or  putrid  head  of  salmon,  with  jeering  taunt  he  threw, 
Then  strode  away  in  triiunph,  to  gloat  o'er  insult  new. 


I 


Blend  with  his  ste[)s  receding  on  the  air  of  evening  still, 
From  an  overhanging  cedar,  the  voice  of  whip[)oorwill, 
In  accents  low  and  mournful,  as  widowed  turtle-dove, 
*'Oh,  list,  my  foster-brother!  oh,  hear,  my  truant  love! 
For  you  my  heart  is  breaking  !"  in  accents  low  and  mild; 
It  was  the  voice  of  Noo-na,  the  chieftain's  darling  child. 

"Why  left  ye  thus  our  teepee?  why  went  ye  thus  astray? 
And  from  my  arms  in  breaking  you  tore  my  heart  away. 


*"  Sko'-ku 111,  brave.       f  Til'-la-koom,  enemy,       \  ll'-li-lui',  country. 


; 


1^ 


156    i'yi''  TKAir.En  riir:  rRouD  coi.umiua. 

Oil,  live  you  not  for  vengeance  my  sire  declares  your 

due, 
Hut  for  your  foster-sister,  your  Noo-na,  ever  true!" 
Then  sack  of  choicest  viands  from  towering  cliff  she 

threw, 
And  ere  his  blessings  reached  her  had  vanished  from  his 

view. 


Scarce  need  to  tell  the  sequel.     In  every  age  and  clime 
The  daring  deeds  of  lovers  was  ever  theme  sublime. 
Amid  the  scenes  that  follow,  of  carnage  on  the  plain, 
Escaped  the  daring  ranger  and  the  maiden  of  Sjjokane, 
And  in  a  hidilen  valley  this  ranger  yeoman  tills; 
Soon  bounteously  the  harvests  their  bridal  teepee  fills. 
And  rollick  on  the  pintos  their  brood  of  whippoorwills. 


HO,   WAKKN! 


^*  Ho,  waken,  you  dwellers  in  chambers  of  (lay, 
Arise  from  your  slumbers  and  welcome  the  tlay  ! 
Coinj  forth  from  your  prison,  flesh,  raiment,  and  arms, 
And  greet  us  with  welcome,  no  needless  alarms. 

We're  only  your  brothers  from  over  the  sea, 
Thus  rending  your  fetters  anil  setting  you  free  • 
Stalk  forth  as  the  warriors  and  sorcerers  bold. 
And  greet  us  with  music  and  legends  of  old. 


<i  i ' 


Whose  flesh-covered  bones  strode  forth  as  a  brave 
In  the  battle-axe  combat?     Who's  cringed  as  a  slave? 
And  here  are  their  mothers  one  moaning  for  those 
Who  came  not  again  from  the  banquet  of  foes. 

'5  And  whose  is  this  dust  in  these  chambers  beside? 
Mingled  ashes  of  those  who  as  patriots  died. 
At  the  stake  on  the  coteau  of  far-distant  plain, 
Or  the  torrents  of  gore  in  the  vale  of  the  slain? 

Or  are  they  the  ashes  of  sacrifice  grand 
To  the  gods  in  the  fires  of  a  priest-rid(i«-n  land, 
Where  mothers  oft  gave,  under  wizard  control, 
The  fruit  of  the  womb  for  the  weal  of  the  soul? 


And  how  came  these  shells  from  the  deep-rolling  waves 
Of  an  ocean  afar  to  these  prairie  land  graves  ? 

14  »57 


i5« 


no,   IVAKI.M 


1  I 


I  i 


t^ 


And  what  were  the  viands  that  in  then)  was  given 
To  nourish  the  soul  in  its  journey  to  heaven  ? 

•*And  wliy  are  tliese  rani[)arts  so  h)fty  and  h)ng 
Widespread  o'er  the  phiins  wliere  the  antchjpe  throng, 
With  tlie  deer,  elk,  and  beaver,  and  elephant  grand, 
All  trailing  in  earth  to  a  sunnier  land? 

Whence  came  ye  ?     Where  wandered  ?     Or  perished  you 

here  ? 
As  a  race  are  ye  dwelling  where  proud  foivsts  rear 
Their  shafts  and  their  branches  defying  the  gales. 
O'er  a  peo[)Ie  asleep  in  their  own  native  vales. 

No  answer,  no  greeting,  nor  motion  nor  nioans ; 
Your  dwellings  still  crumble,  still  moulder  your  bones;' 
Thus  careful  1  glean  from  this  chamber  of  clay 
These  relicts  for  science  in  halls  far  away. 

And  the  remnant  I  carefully  cover  again. 
Then  mournfully  hie  to  the  valley  or  plain. 
Sad  traces  to  find  in  the  cairns  of  the  dead 
Of  a  race  who  for  ages  uncounted  have  fletl. 

All  pensive  I  nuise  of  those  relicts  of  yore. 
The  labors  of  those  who  shall  labor  no  more. 
Then  wondering  turn  to  the  monuments  grand 
Of  the  race  that  now  governs  this  cairn-dotted  land. 

When  ?ges  uncounted  shall  circle  again. 

And  this  race  of  proud  vandals  shall  sleep  with  the  slain, 

O'er  their  crumbling  ruins  of  iron  and  stone 

May  wantler  the  warriors  of  races  unknown. 


NOKTHI'KN    CMMi:. 


'M'AINT  I  recall,  throii<;h  mists  of  time, 
The  thrilling'  scenes  of  Northern  clime: 
The  outward  voyage  in  birch  canoe, 
As  iiome  and  friends  recede  from  view; 
Then  long  blue  IluronS:  pine-clad  snore, 
And  great  Superior's  waters  roar, 
Lake  of  the  Wilds,  and  penapce  beg 
For  cursing  gnats  on  Winnepeg; 
And  tiien  with  buoyant  h()[)e  and  song. 
With  pole  and  paddle  fnin  and  strong, 
Ascend  thy  Hoods,  Sus-Kutch-a-wan. 


Long  are  the  days,  but  circles  low 
The  orb  of  warmth  on  crests  of  snow, 
Which  tower  athwart  its  slanting  rays. 
And  seem  at  eve  with  gold  ablaze, 
Until  retinged  with  mellow  light 
By  silvery  rays  from  orb  of  night, 
Which  o'er  deep  cafions  dim  at  noon 
Oft  soars  the  brilliant  "harvest  moon,"- 
As  fair  as  in  our  distant  home, — 
To  cheer  us  as  we  toiling  roam, 
And  gild  the  dangers  yet  to  come. 


li 


Oh,  these  brilliant  days  are  waning,  and  bitter  nighis 

begun 
With  the  fiiding  moons  of  autumn  and  the  sinking  of 

the  sun  ; 

159 


^^^^^^^^um 


160 


A'OfC77fi:K!V  Cl.lME. 


I  ■  I 


i    -i 

if 


Soon  all  tlu"  narrow  valK-ys  wi-ar  Mankcts  wlnto  of  snow, 
And  icy  ciiw  hcs*  hamper  the  mountain-torrents'  flow; 
(!anocs  arc  left  for  sledges,  and  shaj;gy  kam-ooks  strong 
lly  thon^'  are  driven  tandem  to  haul  our  ^'oods  alon^. 
And  thus  we  northward  joinney  among  the  Knis-tc-neaux, 
In  trapping  of  the  heaver  or  slaying  ear-a-bou, 
Or  trading  heads  and  bhmkels,  or  gaudy  trinkets  new, 
For  martin  pelts,  or  otter,  and  foxes  wliite  or  hlue, 
Till  on  the  Ath-a-has-can  wc  build  a  sttxkadc  new. 

Soon  our  Norwegian  sncnv-shoes  we  carve  of  sapling  long, 
Or  cunning  weave  the  web-foot  of  mouse-wood  bark  ami 

thong, 
Then   bold   in   winter's   twilight,  o'er  drifting  fiehls  of 

snow. 
We  trail  the  fox  and  shun-ka  and  trotting  car-a-bou. 
Or  'iuid  the  cedar  thic  kets  or  stinted  balsams  green, 
'I'he  moose,  the  shaggy  musk-ox,  or  crafty  wolverine, 
And  of  their  coats  we  fashion  huge  outer  garments  warm, 
Or  'neath  them,  rolled  in  blankets,  defy  the  Arctic  storm, 
Or  watch  the  wavy  halos  athwart  the  "  Northern  I'ole," 
With  icy  fingers  clasping  to  tear  away  the  soul. 
The  while  their  matchless  splendors  o'er  all  the  heavens 

roll. 

When  from  such  scenes  returning,  with  weary  limbs  we 

come, 
And  by  the  fagots  burning  enjoy  our  wintry  home. 
In  vigils  long  and  soothing  in  place  of  slumbers  gone. 
When,  as  *he  night-watch  shivering,  we  swell  our  muscles 

wan, 
Then  cheerful  join  the  frolics  dismissing  fear  and  care, 
On  snow-shoes  trail  the  ermine  or  fight  the  polar  bear, 


*  Cinches,  Spanish,  sacklle-girtlis. 


A'OA' ////■: A' X  (7./A//:. 


i6i 


Until  tho  sun  rolnrning  fr<Mn  Itn^ilu'iKwl  wintry  iili^'ht 
ki'lliMts  from  i«'y  sp;in  ;Ii's  its  c-oiiiitlcss  ^Kiuns  of  li^ht, 
VViih  joyous  shouts  of  wclcoine  tluit  Ar»:tic  night  is  past, 
As  monks  from  fasting  penance  rejoin  in  grantl  repast, 
And  •^lioia  and  song  and  legend  around  our  l)la/.ing  fires. 
The  Cree,  the  HruU',  and    Hriton,  and  sons  of   Pilgrim 


sires  ; 


And  oft,  when  storms  arc  howling,  join  in  the  cir(  ling 
dance 

The  brawny  lads  of  Scotland,  with  kill  and  plume  as- 
kance. 

The  jolly  heirs  of  Kiin,  and  njerry  sons  of  France. 

These  scenes  are  o'er,  bright  visions  fled 

Shall  meet  no  more, — the  actors  dead. 

Alas  1  their  graves  are  sca»tered  wide 

From  mounlain-crest  to  ocean-tide; 

Some  sleep  in  vaults  in  Christian  lands, 

llncoffined  some  in  desert  sands; 

Some  fell  in  deadly  border  strife 

l}y  piercing  barb  or  gleaming  knife  ; 

Some  far  from  friends,  who  ne'er  shall  know 

Where  cunlling  life-tides  ceased  to  flow, 

In  winding-sheet  of  Alpine  snow  ; 

Some  for  their  country  fought  and  fell, 

In  victory  shouting,  "  All  is  well  !" 

The  booming  gun  their  funeral  knell, 

And  coming  bards  their  fame  shall  swell ; 

Lone  one,  as  bough  of  mistletoe, 

Clings  still  to  life  amid  the  snow; 

May  melting  torrents  here  below 

Strand  him  where  Eden's  streamlets  flow  I 


14' 


T^ 


DE   SOTO. 

''^  Damp  was  the  day  and  dreary,  tlie  night  was  dark  and 

cohl  ; 
Wor'i  were  my  limbs  and  weary,  my  refuge  liovel  ohl  ; 
Wliile   Christmas   bells   were   jingling    in    merry  distant 

home. 
Rife  was   the   night   with   revels  where   duty  called    to 

roam. 
'Twas  by  the  Mississippi,  where  ancient  cypress  rear 
Above  the  sluggish  bayous  the  pendent  mosses  drear, 
With  fevered  brow  and  throbbing,  I  dreamed  or  seemed 

to  dream 
Of    stifled    moan    and    wailing,    and    flickering    torch's 

gleam  ; 
A  grouj)  of  grizzled  warriors  around  a  mossy  bed, 
And  priests  their  masses  chanting  for  the  spirit  of  the 

dead. 
It  was  the  proud  De  Soto,  by  toil  and  sorrow  slain. 
And  his  comrades  with  Pizarro,  the  cavaliers  of  Spain. 

Dim  through  the  shadows  o'er  them,  back  rolk  the  tide 

of  time. 
Till    plumed    and    mounted    warriors,    they    leave    their 

native  clime. 
And  'neath  its  floating  banners  embark  upon  the  main. 
Far  in  the  western  Indies  to  gold  and  glory  gain. 
Balmy  the  laughing  breezes  that  swell  their  eager  sails  ; 
Eden  the  land  which  greets  them,  of  mountains,  hills,  and 

dales ; 
162 


1 


DE   SOTO. 


163 


Peaceful  the  chief  wlio  meets  them  ui)on  Peruvian  shore; 
Patient  the  faithful  toilers,  who  bounteous  harvests  store; 
Fatal  the  hour  that  taught  them  to  wash  its  golden  sand; 
Christians,  the  men  who  slew  them  with  sabre,  spear,  and 

brand  ; 
Brazen  the  thanks  to  Heaven  for  gold  with  gory  stain 
IJy  these  comrades  of  Pizarro,  these  cavaliers  of  Spain. 

When  from  the  land  of  Incas  they  greet  its  placid  shore, 
Broad  looms  their  trail  of  i)lunder,  of  revelry  and  gore  ; 
And  of  the  winds  uniting  to  swell  their  waiting  sails. 
Laden  the  mountain  breezes  with  a  slaughtered  nation's 

wails. 
And  when  the  pillaged  Eden  recedes  beneath  the  waves, 
Nameless  the  scenes  of  revel  with  shackled  female  slaves. 
In  narrow  land  'twixt  oceans,  like  worthless  lemon-rind. 
As  feast  for  flimished  vultures,  the  weak  are  left  behind. 
To  Spanish  isles  they  visit,  as  conquerors  they  come, 
And'4oud  the  shouts  of  greeting,  the  trumi)et,  fife,  and 

drum  ; 
And   thus  as   Christian   warriors   they   leave   the   raging 

main. 
And  seek  their  native  valleys,  these  conquerors  from  Spain. 


Alas  !   the  shameful  story  of  banquets  long  and  grand, 
And  badges  bright  of  glory  from  prince  of  native  land. 
And  oft  the  thanks  to   Heaven,  and  loud  the  praise  of 

those 
Who  crossed  the  raging  ocean  to  "conquer  pagan  foes;" 
While  to  the  priests  in  masses,  for  fallen  comrades'  souls, 
Pile  high  Peruvian  plunder  and  Mexican  pistoles ; 
And  proudly-titled  maidens  caress  the  cheeks  of  those 
Dark-bronzed  in  scorching  deserts,  or  scarred  in  fighting 

foes. 


164 


DE  so'ro. 


I    ^ 


li 


Then  from  their  prince  and  Heaven  a  title  good  and 
grand  --^ 

Is  to  De  Soto  given  for  reahn  in  distant  land, 

Who  with  his  wealth  and  warriors  embarks  to  cross  the 
main, 

An  empire  new  to  conquer  for  Heaven  and  for  Spain. 

'Twas  on  the  isle  of  jewels  they  marshal  well  and  long. 
Then  cross'd   the  narrow  waters,  six  hundred   warriors 

strong, 
With  steeds  and  lance  and  carbine,  to  conquer  and  to 

hold 
The  land  of  healing  fountains,  of  glittering  gems  and 

gold  ; 
And  loud  the  thanks  to  Heaven,  and  tall  the  cross  they 

rear. 
('Twas  then  the  way  of  nations,  and  were  they  not  sin- 
cere? 
Too  oft  we  judge  of  others  by  light  they  never  knaw; 
In  ages  past  or  coming  perchanoe  we'd  change  our  view.) 
Soon    reared    is   stockade   ample    for    those   they   leave 

behind, 
Then  with  their  steeds  and  banners  through  flowery  vales 

tliey  wind. 
Thus  forth  a  realm  to  conquer,  and  gold  and  glory  gain. 
Proud   tread   the  knights  of  Portugal  and  cavaliers  of 

Spa::.. 

'T'vas  now  no  land  of  mountains,  of  terraced  slopes  and 

pines, 
But  sedgy  bogs  and  cane-brakes,  and  thorny  plants  and 

vines. 
Beneath  the  moaning  cypress  in  mourning  draped  they 

find 
No  greeting  friend  before  them,  but  lurking  foe  behind ; 


DE   SOTO. 


T65 


As  thus  for  moons   they  wciiulcr  ihroiigh    forest,  fen,  or 

ghuie, 
IJy  sedgy  lakes  and  bayous  they  sorely  are  delayed, 
Till  Ortiz,  long  a  captive  unto  a  chieftain  grand, 
By  him  in  ki.idness  sent  ihem,  guides  safely  throu-h  the 

land 

Unto  the  smiling  hamlets  of  a  people  tall  and  brave, 
Who  prize  a  sturdy  foeman,  but  scorn  a  cringing  sla've 
To  homes  of  shelter  welcome,    'mid   golden    fields  of 

grain, 
They  greet  the  famished  vvarrio/s,  the  cavaliers  of  Spain. 

Long  through  the  land  they  ivander  in  search  of  gems 

and  gold 
In  vain,  and  suffer  hunger  and  sickness,  thirst  and  cold  • 
Oft   cheered    by    baseless    legends,    that    lead    them    far 

astray. 

In  pathless  rocky  regions  to  wend  their  weaiy  way. 
Till  from  a  craggy  su.-mit  with  joyful  shout  they  gaze 
Upon  a  land  of  hamlets  and  golden  fields  of  maize. 
A  chieftain  had  each  village,  its  temple  and  its  priest. 
And  robes  and  signs  and  seasons  for  sacrifice  and  feast. 
High   in   the  level  valley  broad  mounds  of  earth   they 

raise 
For  lofty  halls  of  chieftain,  of  council,  or  for  praise, 
And  palisades  encircle  the  hamlets  of  the  plain, 
When  greeted  by  these  pilgrims,  the  cavaliers  of  Spain. 

In  welcome- through  the  valleys  they  eat  and  take  their 
fill  ; 

Resistless  in  the  hamlets,  they  revel,  rob,  and  kill ; 
And  chieftain  hold  as  hostage,  to  furnish  slaves  to  bear 
The  burdens  of  the  victors,  relieved  from  toil  and  care. 


166 


DF.    SO  70. 


\\ 


I 


Until  from  Tas-ta-lu-ca  they  cross  Pi-u-rhe's  stream, 
And  view  within  Mauil-hi  the  spears  of  warriors  gleam. 
In  parley  brief  the  chieftain,  tiie  hostage,  and  tiie  slave, 
Exchange    the    fetters   galling   for    the  weapons   of  the 

brave ; 
And  then  the  slave  and  captor  as  sturdy  warriors  meet. 
With  battle-axe  and  sabre,  all  fight  and  none  retreat. 
But  breast  to  breast,  with  blow  and  thrust,  fast  pile  the 

heaps  of  slain. 
The  warriors*  doom,   in   i)aint   and    plume,   and  belted 

knights  of  Spain. 


\\ 


Oh,  hasten,  bold  Moscoso,  charge  fearless  o'er  the  plain. 
Ride  down  and  thrust  the  foeman,  and  broader  strew  the 

slain. 
From  fallen  steed  De  Soto  remounts  to  quick  restore 
To  ranks  the  warriors  quenching  their  thirst  'mid  pools 

of  gore. 
From  these  the  shout  of  battle  and  bugle-blast  prolong. 
From  those  the  clarion  war-whoop  and  dying  battle-song. 
The  shafts  of  stalwart  warriors,  fast  as  the  mountain  hail. 
Crash  through  the  shield  and  helmet,  and  pierce  the  coat 

of  mail ; 
And    feathered   barbs  are  flying,   like  wintry  flakes  of 

snow, 
And  ghastly  wounds  are  spouting,  as  geysers  jet  and  flow. 
Earth  moans,  as  o'er  her  bosom  fast  flows  the  crimson 

♦tide 
From  wounds  of  countless  peasants  who  round  their  altars 

died  ; 
And  'neath  the  hoof  of  chargers,  through  trellised  hills 

and  dales, 
Transpierced  by  lance  and  sabre,  arise  the  dying  wails, 


DE   SOTO. 


167 


When  lo  !    from   fiery  torches,  hurled  'mid   the  ihutchy 

roofs, 
A  thousand   red-tongued   monsters    career  with  blazing 

hoofs ; 
A  lurid  hell,  they  revel  o'er  maid  and  peasant  slain, 
And  to  it  force  the  living,  the  mounted  knights  of  Spain. 


n 


Grim  sinks  the  king  of  splendor  behind  the  field  of  flame  ; 

Pale  beams  the  queen  of  evening  above  the  scene  of 
shame  j 

Shrill  rings  the  taunt  defiant  from  warriors  in  the  glade; 

Chill  grow  the  faint  and  dying,  on  gory  couches  laid. 

No  warming  draught  nor  bandage,  nor  lint  to  stanch  a 
wound  ; 

None  from  the  smouldering  ruins  will  evermore  be  found. 

Faint  throbs  the  ebbing  lifetide  on  weary  comrade's 
breast ; 

Faint,  fainter  still  and  flickering,  and  two  warriors  are  at 
rest. 

Sad  is  the  dirge  and  wailing,  and  muffled  drum  and  fife, 

'Neath  banners  draped  and  tattered,  and  pierced  in 
bloody  strife; 

Reversed  their  swords  and  lances,  and  slow  their  meas- 
ured tread, 

As  sadly  on  the  morrow  they  bear  the  mangled  dead. 

^Amid  the  holly  shadows,  upon  the  gory  plain, 

Uncoffined  sleep  and  moulder  two  hundred  sons  of  Spain. 

Dim  fades  the  gloomy  vision,  as  wandering  far  and  wide, 
Through  countless  tramps  and  battles,  to  Mississippi's 

tide; 
High  o'er  the  waters  rolling  resistless  to  the  main 
They  rear  the  cross  as  Christians,  and  claim  the  land  for 

Spain ; 


\\ 


^ 


iCS 


DE  SOTO. 


Then  o'er  its  turbid  wnters  still  onward  far  they  roam 
Throwgli  countless  vales  and  hamlets,  nor  seek  nor  nierit 

home, 
'V'\\\  in  the  craggy  mountains  these  pilgrims,  seeking  gold, 
Fade  as  the  leaves  of  autumn   from   hunger,  thirst,  and 

cold  ; 
•Then  southward,  weary  wandering  through  wintry  wind 

and  storm. 
Till  on  tile  bold  Arkansas  they  sleep  in  hamlets  warm. 
The  prayers  of  peaceful  owners  for  recompense  were  vain; 
Naught  had  they  left  to  give  them,  these  wanderers  from 

Spain. 


! 


I 


Time,  strife,  and  suffering  dispel  their  golden  dreams; 
Homewartl  they  turn  in  spring-time  adown  the  swollen 

streams, 
Until  the  Mississippi  they  shouting  greet  again, 
Far  down  its  turbid  waters,  anear  tiie  briny  main ; 
But  weary,  wan,  and  sinking,  and  sadly  needing  those 
Whose  bones,  alas !    are  bleaching  along  their  trail  of 

woes, 
To  build  them  bark    of  safety,  yet  haughty  to  the  last. 
Supplies  demand  of  chieftain  of  maize  and  service  vast. 
No  cringing  menial  answer,  but  haughty  chief  of  braves, — 
"Of  vie,  the  prince  of  warriors,  claim  food  and  toiling 

slaves ; 
KniXyoii,  the  heir  of  Heaven,  the  son  of  rolling  sphere, 
Dry  up  the  mighty  river,  then  come,  you'll  find  me  here. 
If  friend,  I'll  greet  you  grandly;  if  foe,  no  bended  knee 
Be  stool  for  mounting  charger;  in  life  or  death  we're 

free." 
A  peer  has  met  De  Soto;  another  waiting  stands; 
It  is  remorse's  fever  and  'vengeful  reeking  hands. 


1 


DE   SO  10. 


169 


Which    from    liis   couch  of  anguish,   as  galling  cai)live 

chain, 
Drag  'ncath  the  turbid  waters  this  cavalier  of  Spain. 


Dim  through  the  murky  shadows  I  view  Moscoso's  band, 
Far  wandering  through  the  deserts  in   search  of  golden 

land  ; 
A  remnant  fierce  and  famished  to  Rio  Grande*  return, 
One  hamlet  fill  with  plunder,  and  others  wanton  burn. 
And  harmless  peasants  chaining, — 'tis  not  the  land  of 

those 
Who  strangers  greet  in  friendship,  or  warriors  meet  as 

foes, — 
To  help  in  toil  In  forming  a  stockade  broad  and  long, 
And  then  brigantines  seven,  of  piank  and  timbers  strong; 
And  nails  they  forge  of   fetters  torn   from  their  dying 

slaves. 
Or  helmet,  sword,  or  buckler  of  vanished  comrade  braves. 
Then  with  thfi  flood  of  waters  launch  boldly  for  the  main. 
This  remnant  of  the  warriors,  these  cavaliers  of  Spain. 


re. 

lee 

re 


Far  comes  the  shout  of  triumph  as  breezes  fill  their  sails; 
Near  swells  the  moans  of»dying  and  famished  orphans' 

wails ; 
Faint  falls  the  song  of  gladness  from  those  we'll  see  no 

more ; 
Loud  rings  the  clarion  death-whoop  of  warriors  seeking 

gore. 
A  hand  is  on  my  bosom,  cold  fingers  clutch  my  hair, — 
O  God  !  it  is  a  vision,  .aid  vanishes  in  air. 


*  As  the  i>paniards  then  called  the  Mississippi  River 
H  15 


lyo 


DE  so'io. 


A  steamer's  Kcrccching  whistle,  l)er  shouting  (lew  anil 

bell, 
(!oiniuingle  with  the  teini)est,  unearthly  din  to  swell; 
Yet  lingering  froni  n)y  vision  awhile  a  phantom  clings, 
And  from  my  ancient  relics  in  fading  cadence  sings: 
'•Oh,  freed  we  from  our  prison,  our  fetters,  and  our  <lay; 
Where  are  our  friends  and  comrades,  and  captors,  whert 

are  they  ? 
Where  are  the  fields  and  camp-fires,  the  walls  and  pickets 

strong? 
O'ergrown   by  mighty  forests,  sure  we  have  slumbered 

long." 
Yes,  slumbered  long  and  tranquilly,  while  friends  and 

race  are  fled  ; 
Another  race  has  concjuered,  and  mingles  with  your  dead. 
The  tramp  of  mighty  armies,  the  roar  of  bloody  strife, 
Of  brother  against  brother,  aroused  you  not  to  life. 
As  countless  rills  uniting  a  flood  to  swell  the  sea. 
These  brothers  blend  a  nation,  united,  happy,  free; 
While  plaintive  moans  the  cypress,  and  c!..iiv  the  waters 

flow. 
As  in  the  days  of  Cortez,  four  hundred  years  ago, 
Thus  fades  my  midnight  vision,  thus  ends  my  mournful 

strain. 
Of  the  legend  of  Dc  Soto,  the  cavalier  of  Spain. 


N  O  T  !•:  s. 


ll 


THE    C:  ALU  M  K  'I'    ( )  V    T  UK    CO  T  V.  A  U. 

'  "  Say,  linst  tlioii  iicen  the  cal-u-fnct  of  pink  or  purple  bright, 
A  p!pi;-l)i)wl  ill  llic  cuiincil,  a  hatulict  in  the  fi>;hl?" 

Tht  first  white  rovers  of  the  seas  who  landed  upon  llic  sliori's  of 
North  Ainorica  were  iiiiiformly  met  hy  armed,  stalwart,  red-  or  copper- 
colored  warriors,  led  hy  some  paiiit-and  plunit-l)edeekc<l  chieftain, 
who,  with  a  sjiread  rohe  or  hlaiikct  and  the  curlinj^  azure  smoke  of 
the  pipe  of  peace,  welcomed  them  to  their  wild  shore  and  rude 
hospitality. 

This  indeed  seems  to  have  ever  been  the  custom  in  their  intercourse 
with  the  whites  and  with  each  other.  I'e  it  a  casual  meeting;  upon 
the  trail,  a  visit  of  friendship  or  business,  a  council  for  the  adjustment 
of  differences  to  avoid  war,  or  for  the  ratification  of  the  terms  of 
peace,  little  is  ever  said,  and  positively  nothinjf  important  done,  until 
after  the  exchange  of  at  least  a  few  puffs  of  smoke  from  the  never- 
wanting,  forgotten,  or  neglected  pipe  of  peace. 

'J'hese  are  of  various  forms,  hut  all  having  the  orifice  for  the  inset - 
tion  of  tlie  stem  at  one  end,  extend  to  a  capacious  howl  or  receptacle 
U]K)n  one  side,  usually  at  right  angles  therewith,  for  the  indigenous 
toLacco,  or,  in  its  absence,  Kin-no-ke-nick  osier-bark,  or  other  fragrant 
infiammable  substances.  For  use  upon  ordinary  occasions  they  were 
ntade  of  a  great  variety  of  rocky  substances,  and,  together  with  the 
stem,  were  ornamented  according  to  the  caprice  or  circumstances  of 
the  maker  or  subsequent  owner.  This  class  of  pijies  are  articles  of 
sale,  barter,  valued  tokens  of  esteem,  as  presents  to  friends  in  life, 
and,  less  frequently,  as  bequests  at  death  ;  as,  from  the  nearly  uni- 
versal belief  of  the  North  American  Indians  that  all  things  animate 
and  inanimate  alike  ])0'^sess  souls,  these  pipes,  a  supply  of  tobacco 

171 


17a 


NO  Tl'lS. 


ami  food,  as  well  ax  his  weapons,  utensils,  ornaments,  apparel,  and 
blankets,  occasionally  his  war  lit)rse,  and  >onietiints  his  widow,  or 
widows,  are  l)iiric<l  willi  the  warrior  f^oiiii',  so  that  in  the  happy 
hunlin^-prounds  lieyond  the  numnt  lius  he  ni.iy  ihcrc  renew  lile,  iU 
pursuits  and  its  pleasures,  as  he  left  it  here. 

J5iit  in  the  };rand  councils,  for  the  adjustment  of  <lisi  ufes  of 
boundaries,  formation  of  alliances,  or  the  ratification  of  the  lernis  of 
peace  anion};  nations,  the  indispensable  cereninnial  pi[*e  of  peace  is 
the  yi  lli)w-iM(>tlIed,  pink,  or  purple  calumet  from  the  sacred  quarry 
of  the  lejjendiry  fossili/.cd  Ihsji  of  the  antedihiviau  projjcnitors 
of  the  race  of  red  men,  usually  bearinj^  the  totem  of  the  owner, 
clan,  or  tribe,  or  all  of  them,  and  wliiih  were  never  re^^ular  arti* 
cles  of  barter  or  sale,  and  seldom  of  transfer,  save  in  compacts  of 
alliance  or  confederation  of  tribes  or  nations,  when  they  were  ex- 
chani^eable.  Hence  its  transfer  to  other  races  was  saerilcijious;  and 
of  the  countless  pipes  jieacefully  obtained  of  tl  Indians  by  the 
early  white  n>en,  it  is  believed  that  few,  if  any,  wi ,  -  genuine  sacred 
calumets;  and  the  location,  even  approximately,  of  the  sacred  quarry, 
or,  as  figuratively  called,  mountain,  was  for  a  long  time  unknown  to 
white  men. 

Tradition  relates  that  the  lirst  devout  Frenchmen  who  visited  the 
falls  of  the  Father  of  Waters  in  l68o  were  j^reeled  by  the  appear- 
ance of  St.  Anthony,  the  ])atron  saint  of  the  expedition,  who,  from 
amid  the  spray  above  the  falls,  warned  them  that  a  great  council  (^f 
the  nations  of  red  men  had  recently  ordained  that  no  pale-face  should 
be  allowed  to  nearer  approach  the  sacred  calumet  (juarry ;  and,  also, 
that  he  was  rewarded  for  his  fidelity  and  the  event  conmienior.ited 
by  their  attaching  his  name  to  the  falls,  which  they  still  retain. 

These  well-known  falls  are  380  miles  by  direct  railroad  connection, 
and  fully  twice  that  distance  by  the  ancient  route  of  nations  up  the 
St.  Peter's — now  Minnesota — River  and  coteau  route,  from  the  sacred 
quarry,  which,  although  in  the  land  of  the  Dakotag,  is  some  miles 
east  of  the  border  of  that  Territory,  in  Pipestone  County,  Minnesota, 
as  now  organized. 

It  is  situated  near  the  southern  end  of  the  groat  "  Coteau  des 
Prairies"  of  the  old  French  voyageurs,  and  upon  llie  small  calumet 
aflluent  of  the  Big  Sioux  River,  which  is  now  called  the  Pipestone 
Creek,  near  the  drainage  divide  of  the  Mississipjii  and  Missouri 
Rivers.     From  the  summit  of  this  coteau  divide  the  long  parallel 


l\ 


NO  rr.s. 


^n 


V 


swells  iinifonii  in  t  li.ir.ii  iii.  Imt  rli;inninj;Iy  (livcrsllifil  in  oiiilim*, 
Ktii'tch,  likr  tin*  wiivcH  i>f  n  ri)Msili/ei|  «ho,\h,  awny,  aw.ty,  until  tin* 
viTiliirr  <»f  cw\\\  and  llur  nziiri"  of  luMvm  Mi-nd  in  the  cloudless 
horizon  of  it\\y  of  tlic  most  clminunjj  rtirnl  landscmK-'H  of  enrtli, 
even  still  wliiic  licin;^  spanned  hy  llii:  iron  rail  and  (lolti'd  li\  ili.; 
d\\cllin;^'s,  the  >,'r.iin  l"u  Ids,  verdanl  j^rovt's,  and  tliiivinj;  \iIl,i^;i'»or 
lliu  iill-pro;;ii  ssivc  rati;  of  destiny,  ovor  tlif  riidr  luniuli,  niouldciiiij; 
lioncs,  niul  cnuuliling  land  niurUs  of  the  wumluiiiig  racu  fivsl  fading' 
awny. 

That  the  uni(|no  suiTace  conformation  of  this  region  results  fron> 
cnorinouH  groovin^^s  and  deposits  during  the  ^dacial  |>eiiod  and  count- 
less aj,'«'s  of  Hiil)si'i|iuMit  eiosioii  is  fully  piuvi-n  hy  the  surface  and 
tliaratler  of  the  soil,  the  (.ountiiss  huge  erratic  Mocks,  or  !o>,t  houldns 
strewn  broadcast  ujion  it,  ns  the  sacred  eggs  of  the  genii  in  the  Little 
Calumet  or  Pipestone  Valley,  the  countless  dc»'p  parallel  groovlngs 
upon  all  the  exposed  rocks  u\  the  cliffs  as  well  as  the  valley,  and 
the  evident  abrading  effei ts  upon  them  of  the  frosts  and  the  infrtipient 
but  severe  storms  of  a  high  latitude  and  a  moderately  elevated,  open, 
nn<l  windy  region. 

The  operation  of  some  or  all  of  thise  agencies  has  produced  a 
valley  two  miles  in  length,  extending  somewhat  east  of  north  and 
west  of  south  from  the  midway  and  d(.ti«e>t  portion  of  the  falls  nn  the 
Calumet  ox  I'ipestone  Creek,  where  over  tliiriy  feet  of  the  hori/.ontally- 
baiided  and  cross-seclioiuMl,  vitreous,  beautiful  flesh-  or  pink-colored 
stone  rises  in  nearly  vertical  but  broki  nedj^cd  walls. 

The  creek  is  barely  a  pciiii.iiu'nl  >ii  miii  ^a\(;  in  spi  iiig-tiiiu:  or 
floods,  when  it  ix  lujiraiiie  deluge,  bre.ikiiig  over  the  ragged  (  lilV-.  in 
several  additional  cascatles ;  bui  tlu'  four  pools  or  l.ikriets  aioug  the 
stream  within  a  mile  nortliwc-^ierly  aie  all  rocky  and  permanent,  well 
slocked  with  i)ickercl  and  oilier  ii-^li,  and  often  literally  covered  with 
ducks,  geese,  and  other  water-fowl. 

The  carpet  of  lu'ibage  and  flowers  along  this  creek  and  chain  of 
lakelets  mu^t  have  ever  i)ecn  a  chosen  haunt  of  buffalo,  eli(,  deer,  an<l 
antelope;  and  a  view  fiom  the  s.icrilicial  altar  upon  the  cliff  borders 
of  this  sacred  vale  of  refuge,  and  tin-  pilgrims  from  countless  nations, 
engaged  in  bathing,  in  peaceful  amusemenls,  <.x  in  cpiarrying  the 
sacred  pipe^tone,  nui^l  have  ever  been  one  of  the  most  unicjue  and 
interesting  ever  witnessed  by  man  in  any  age  or  clime. 

The  sacred  tjuarry  is  about  one-thirel  of  a  mile  west  from  the  clilVs 

'5* 


i 


>74 


NOT /'IS, 


nn<l  pnnvlkl  with  tliom,  an<l  wlicthir  or  not  it-t  tlHoovrry  rciilly  rc- 
Htilied  fioin  ilic  |iil);riiu>i  trailing  iliu  white  or  luolkinc  \nMn\  or 
hiilV.ilo  ilncii  ;li  tin-  irci-k.a*.  rfl.itod  in  lliu  U•^;cntl,it  i»  ivitliiit  it  was 
Jiisl  uiKiiL'il  aloii;^  ihc  cicck  aii^l  tioilli  of  it,  the  inoie  iccciit  .u  will 
as  I'xicijsivc  i-xiavilioii^.  tsU'iKliiij;  houiIi  of  it  to  a  jtoint  oj)j)oHilc  ilie 
It'ljciulary  aliodc  of  llic  j^i'iiii. 

The  real  vein  of  inottloil  purple  pipostonc  is  n  h()ri/.i)iitalIy*I)C(l(ieil 
an<l  stratified  steatite  rock  a;,'^;re^Mtiii^;  ei^;lileci»  or  twenty  inches  in 
lhii;km>s,  uf  wliiili  only  two  or  three  of  the  Imttoni  strata  are  thick 
eiiuiij^h  lot  the  saired  calumet,  and  this  diiiiiij;  muh  h  of  the  year  in 
heiieath  the  watei, — the  material  upon  its  (ir>t  removal  heinj;  soft  and 
easily  carve<t  and  polislicd  in  any  desired  form,  which  it  ever  retains, 
Humewhat  hardenin^r  and  deepening  in  color  with  n|;e. 

As  this  pipeslone  is  heneath  two  or  three  feet  of  soil  atul  six  or 
«'ij;ht  of  vitreous  n)cks,  only  the  peculiar  fiaclure  of  the  latter  into 
an^jular  blocks  of  from  four  to  six  feet  in  lenj^lh  and  half  as  wide  and 
thick  couM  have  enabled  a  rude  people  destitute  of  j^ood  tools  or 
mechanical  appliances  to  make  excavatiuns  fully  a  mile  in  length  and 
from  fifty  to  two  hundred  feet  in  width, — remains  which  must  ever  he 
.lewed  as  one  of  the  marvellous  exhibitions  of  the  persistence  of  man 
in  securing  an  ornament  or  sustaining  a  superstition. 


1  "  lUit  the  l)isoii,  so  lofly,  so  fleet,  and  so  while, 
0\\  :  mar  nut  iiis  hu.iuty,  but  t'ullow  liis  llij^ht  1" 

The  white,  or  medicine,  curly  bison  of  the  parks,  or  the  shaggy 
buffalo  of  the  plains. 

They  are  extremely  rare,  and,  like  the  medicine  wolf,  wolverine, 
and  other  white  individual  animals  of  dark-colored  species,  are  per- 
haps all)iiios,  and  cerlaiidy  ever  objects  of  mysterious  awe,  and 
usually  of  ceremonious  sacrifice,  and  hence  in  this  case  syudjolic. 

'  "  These  five  eggs  I  leave  for  your  witness  and  mine." 

These  famous  eg<;s  of  the  legendary  monster  eagle  arc  really  that 
number  of  huge  drift  granite  boulders  from  some  distant  unknown 
source,  and  each  from  ten  to  thirty  feet  in  diameter. 

They  are  found  in  a  line  against  each  other,  fronting  the  Calumet 
Creek  froin  the  south,  about  midway  in  the  little  valley,  extending 
from  the  cliffs  of  the  sacred  quarry  of  fossilized  warriors,  rising  thirty 


NOTf'lS. 


'75 


or  forty  fpct  above,  to  the  nioilcin  nuarry,  nix  feet  ItcuctUh  \U  yruMy 
Inn  migu'ar  rock-sircwn  Hiufacc. 

*  "  l.o  I  itc.ttit  .ire  twu  i;r»tt<m  for  W.i-rool  ku'^  lioriia." 

These  \V.i-ii>  il'k.H  aio  the  two  Ie;;i'Ui|;»ry  fcm.ilc  ^;riiii  or  I.umI 
j;o(lik'vses  of  thi*  sacieil  i|ii;iny,  who,  iu  two  liiiU-  ^'lottiM  hctwciu 
ihtfHC  t^gi,  arc  ever  nltcrii.itely  »[uinl)eiiit^  aiul  watching  the  sacrcU 
<|ii.irry. 

Thenc  roclcH,  and  more  notahly  Hat  surfaced  rocks  nhoiit  them,  arc 
I'rarly  covercil  Iiy  the  carvcil  or  paiiileil  totems  of  the  etimilli-ss  pil- 
^{lims  will)  liavc,  iliirinj;  milolil  a^es,  sarrilui-il  to  these  j^iianh.iiis  of 
the  ([iiarry  for  the  |)rivile4je  of  removing  fra^iuciiis  thcrelruiu. 


t  "  llulil  Chcy-eniic  and  Da  ku  t.t,  llie  luttcr  callcil  Si-oiix  " 

I)a-k()'ta  i-.  the  liidLm  name  fur  tlic  confederacy  of  tiihcs  hy  thr 
whiles  called  Sioux. 

This  latter  name  is  of  somewhat  dou!)tful  orij^in,  by  some  l)elicve<l 
to  he  derived  from  the  Al^oii'|iiin  name  Nad-a-wassec wak,  or  the 
people  who  are  snake-like,  from  the  proverbial  sly,  crafty  character 
of  these  people.  l»y  others  the  name  is  deemed  the  coriiiption  of  .i 
pi},'eon  I'Veiuh  word  little  less  complimentary.  IJut  of  the  nanre  of 
this  people  in  the  sij^n  language  there  is  no  ((uestion,  which  is  j^iveii 
by  drawinj^  the  edj;e  of  the  open  right  hand  from  Ici'l  to  rijjht  across 
the  throat,  literally  "cut-throat;"  nor  do  thcsc  names  belie  llu'ir 
character  or  their  legendary  ori^dn  as  the  progeny  of  the  ferocious 
War-Kagle  and  the  sneaking  but  ever-famished  and  voracious  Ca- 
youta,  or  Prairie-Wolf. 

This  name  is  |)ro|)erly  expressed  in  two  closely-connected,  rpiickly- 
spoken  syllables,  as  used  in  this  work,  as  if  spelled  Si-ou,  although 
the  whites  now  usually  pronounce  it  as  if  spelled  .Soo,  in  one  syllable. 

•  "  In  j.isper  cairn  they  buried  the  maid  and  warrior  gone, 
Ami  Ijriglit  their  totems  painted  upon  tlie  wails  of  stone." 

This  cairn  mo  !e  of  burial  is  and  probably  ever  has  been  practised 
at  this  sacred  calumet  (piarry,  although  extremely  unusual  with  the 
Indians  of  the  great  plains  and  cotcaus,  few  of  whom  are  elsewhere 
ever  buried  in  the  earth  or  cairns,  but  usually  encased,  with  their 
weapons  and  implements,  in  blankets  and  green  buffalo-hide,  are 
placetl  by  their  friends  upon  inaccessible  ledges  of  rocks,  in  forked 


!! 


M 


17C 


NOTES. 


trees,  or,  in  the  ahsencc  of  l)otli  of  these,  upon  scnffolds  for  the  pajv 
poose,  squaw,  or  doj^-soIdiLT,  or  in  ,t;or_i;c"  is  teepee  for  the  thief- 
tain  Jn'one.  i)Ut  the  belief  that  both  tlie  eliff  and  (piarry  of  the  pipe- 
stone  are  the  sacred  relics  of  the  anledihivian  (in  part)  progenitors 
of  their  race  seems  to  have  ever  jjrompled  tliem  to  endure  every 
privation  and  danger  in  jiilgriniages  from  lUslant  nations,  to  secure 
not  only  unp  )lliited  fragments  of  the  sacred  piju'stone,  hut,  in  case 
of  their  dying  at  the  Mecca  of  their  liopcs  and  journeying,  to  also 
secure  a  hurial-cairn  of  the  abundant  and  wiile-spread  '"raginents  of 
the  cliff. 

The  countless  numbers  of  these  cairns  in  the  valley,  ujion  the  cliff, 
and  for  miles  upon  the  surrounding  coteau,  literally  form  a  sacred 
cemetery  in  a  land  of  savages;  and  as  these  purjile-  or  flesh-colored 
rocks  are  seemingly  glazed  too  hard  for  carving  with  any  tool  known 
to  these  people,  many  of  them  and  portions  of  the  cliff  are  nearly 
covered  with  the  fading  painted  totems  of  the  pilgrims  who  liave 
mouldered  to  dust  beneath  them. 

T  "  The  woolly-sheep  and  big-horn." 

The  two  distinct  and  extremely  dissimilar  varieties  of  the  wild 
sheep  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  region. 

The  famous  big-horn,  thus  named  from  the  enormous  symmetrical 
horns  of  the  adull  males,  is  the  taller,  more  active,  darker-haired, 
and.  more  beautiful  animal,  and  is  al>o  far  the  most  numerous  and 
best  known. 

While  the  big-horn  has  much  the  appearance  of  a  black-tail  deer, 
with  the  head  and  enormous  horns  of  a  domestic  ram,  the  white  sheep 
wiih  his  curly  under  and  long  shaggy  outer  coating  of  hair,  with  his 
small,  sharp,  backward  turned  and  beautiful  black  horns,  much  re- 
sembles a  huge  goat,  only  he  is  web-fooled  for  travelling  on  the  snow 
helds  of  the  mo-t  elevated  regions,  such  as  those  of  the  main  Rocky 
Mountains  around  the  Deer  Lodge,  Big-IIole,  and  Bitter-Root  Vat- 
leys,  from  which  he  never  ventures  far  or  long  remains. 


r 


o  "  Ijcstiidc  fleet  hornless  liison." 


This  appellrtioii  for  a  horse,  eagle's  wings  for  the  saiis  of  the 
schooner,  or  big  c:wioe,  long-knife  for  sword,  bosom-lotem  for  the 
buckle-plate  of  the  crovs-belt,  war-bonnet  for  the  helmet-cap,  the 
flashing  lightning,  st--'linf^  thunder,  and  deadly  barbless  arrows,  aie 


NO  TKS. 


177 


in  accordance  will)  the  wcll-knowii   Iiidiiui  cliaracterislic  of  namintf 
objects  to  them  new  or  luysterioiis, 

0  "  I'hcii  from  the  '  Mighty  Medicinu'  in  tirror  Ik'd  ama/cil." 

Literally,  tiie  great  mysterious  imkiiowii ;  for  medicine  in  Imlian 
does  not  sij^nify  medicinal  preinualions  to  eure  disease  by  their 
iidierent  properties,  but  rather  anything  mysterious,  awe-inspirinij, 
or  fearful,  including  the  abominable  paints  and  poisonous  decoclions 
of  their  medicine-men,  who  are  not  skilful  physicians,  but  crafty, 
conjuring  magicians. 

10  •'  Pure  Hen-ne-pin  and  Du-hith  visit  for  good  the  shore." 

These  daring  explorers,  like  Marquette  and  most  of  the  early 
French  rovers  of  the  great  Northwestern  lakes  and  jjlains,  were 
zealous  and  devout  missionaries  of  the  cross,  than  whom  few  men  in 
any  age  liave  left  a  more  brilliant  record  of  C(jmbined  heroic  daring 
and  Christian  purity,  fortitude,  and  forbearance,  and  who  should  in 
no  sense  be  confounded  with  the  crafty,  rum-selling,  la\vs-of-Goil- 
and-man-defying  fur-traders  who  followed  them. 

11  "Till  the  prairie  Min-nc-tan-ka.'' 

Or,  in  the  Dakota  language,  Min-ne,  water  •,  Tanka,  great,  o'-,  as 
necessarily  reversed  in  English,  is  literally  Great  water;  but,  when 
properly  understood  and  arranged,  signifies  the  Great  River  of  the 
Prairies, — i.e.,  the  Mississippi. 

12  "  With  purple  pipe  the  chieftain  first  heavenward  points  above." 

With  a  thorough  knowledge  and  hcaitfelt  desire,  I  confess  my  utter 
inability  to  properly  portray  the  matchless  deliberation,  solemnity,  and 
awe  of  the  invocation  of  IleavcP:  to  witness  the  sincerity  and  punish 
the  treachery  of  those  who,  with  a  dudiberate  puff  of  the  sacred  calu- 
met pipe  of  peace,  in  council  pledge 

"  Each  as  a  friend  to  know. 
While  sun  and  moon  shall  circle,  or  crystal  waters  flow."^ 

13  "  Naught  care  tiiey  for  the  siifTerings,  the  iiunger,  thirst,  or  cold 
Of  ugcjnizing  victims,  so  with  gore  they  gather  gold." 

Alas  !  now,  as  it  ever  has  been,  too  lamentably  and  undeniably 
true,  beside  the  sanctuaries  of   the  Sabbatli  in  a  Christian  land,  as 

m 


ii! 


178 


AOTES, 


well  as  ill  the  tinder's  lair  anionjj  llio  lillliy  \vi,L,'\vains  of  the  painted 
savage,  wiicrever  rum  is  suKl. 

H  "  Tor  wife  to  grace  tlic  liarcni,  and  firm  unite  his  race." 

"  Wife,"  often  a  temporary  mistress  to  tlic  trader  in  his  iiarem, 
wliich  far  too  many  trailinj^-posts  are  cursed  witli,  and  ever  have 
been,  and  thus,  and  from  the  roving  habits  of  all  parties,  less  a  per- 
manent home  of  any  semblance  of  virtue,  than  :i  noisy  haunt  of 
prcfit-seeking  alliance  and  allurinij,  transient  vice. 

1"  "  'I'owcr  liiyh  o'er  crystal  waters  huge  crags  of  crumbling  slate." 

The  Maiden's  Rock,  or  i.eap,  on  the  eastern  shore  of  Lake  Pepin, 
famous  in  Indian  legends  from  the  death  of  Min-ne-ha-ha  and  her 
chieftain  lover,  Min-ne-o-la,  as  herein  related. 

If  the  tourist  should  find  this  cliff  more  of  a  crumbling  sandstone 
than  a  slate,  he  may  safely  charge  the  error  to  poetical  license  for  the 
])urj)ose  of  symphony  in  the  rhyme. 

1'"'  "  Then  thrus,  aside  degraded,  lo  delve  in  kennel  vile  !" 

*'  Kennel  vile !"  Trading-posts  are  notorious  haunts  of  dogs,  mainly 
mongrels  of  not  only  every  domestic  variety,  but  also  crosses  v.ith  the 
fox,  cayouta,  and  sometimes  the  ferocious  buff.do-wolf  of  the  plains, 
together  with  their  attendant  venom  and  vermin. 


w 


. 


■y 


%' 


i 


I 


^'  "  'J'lie  secret  passage  opens." 

The  early  trading-posts  were  usually  constructed  upon  the  dry, 
sandy,  or  gravelly  bluffs  to  lakes  or  rivers,  for  the  purpose  of  setting 
tlie  stockade  pickets,  and  for  the  construction  of  secret  passage-ways 
to  the  hidden  powder-magazine  and  caches  for  valuable  goods,  as 
well  as  for  the  purpose  of  retreat,  or  securing  reinforcements,  or 
secrecy  of  their  dusky  amours;  and  in  this  case  (presumably  through 
the  connivance  of  some  friend)  known  to  the  females,  but  not  to  the 
War-Eagle. 

18  "  Still  oft  in  w.-ive-kissed  grottos  sing  they  at  '  Maiden's  Leap.'  " 

With  these  wave-ki.ssed  grottos  is  always  connected  some  tradition 
of  love  or  slaughter,  and  frequently  of  both  ;  and  the  moaning  echoes 
of  the  receding  ripples  in  the  hidden  chambers  arc  ever  attributed  to 


AOTES. 


179 


the  vviiiliim  (lir-'t'  of  the  Lillen  heroes  or  Iieroines  of  ihe  K't'cnd,  ami 
hence  uic  »:vcr  places  of  unrivalled  iiileiebl  in  both  fact  and  fiv-tiun, 

•'J  "  And  tliou,  Mis-sis-sip-pi,  hcar'st  temples  in  gladness, 
\V  illi  loud  strains  of  music  their  progress  to  trace." 

It  seems  scarcely  necessary  to  state  liiat  these  stan/as  refer  Id  the 
niaynilicent  three-decked  sleam-[)acke'.s  and  their  tliff-ochoinjj  calli- 
opes upon  the  Mississippi  and  other  mij^hty  western  rivers. 

20  "  Diiry  purple  cal'mct  Peaceful  ; 
(jucnch  its  azure  sinoki;; 
Grasp  the  hatchet  crimson  reeking. 
Death  at  every  strc'l.e," 

As  buryintj  the  hatcliet  is  the  cerenioviial  manner  as  well  as  the 
figurative  mode  of  expressing  the  ratification  of  a  treaty  of  peace, 
even  thus  was  burying  the  calumet  pipe,  with  its  azure  smoke  and 
peaceful  memories,  the  appropriate  exjjression  of  the  wine-  and  step- 
mother-frenzied War-Kagle  in  opening  a  war  of  merciless  extermina- 
tion upon  his  own  offspring  by  an  ever-peaceful  and  affectionate 
former  consort. 

21  "  Thus  soon  the  \Va  kan-she-cha  had  c  ashed  or  slain  the  race." 
Wa-kan,  mysterious;  shc-cha,  bad;  or  bail  mysterious  one,  or  devil 
she-devil,  which  the  entire  history  of  this  cayouta  wife  of  War- Eagle 
proves  her  to  have  truly  been. 

—  "Anil  'mid  the  wikl  rases  with  carnage  once  red." 

Few  scenes  upon  the  border  are  more  jjleasing  than  the  profusion, 
variety,  and  fragrance  of  the  wild  roses;  and  from  the  large  bright- 
red,  orange,  or  yellow-tinted  seed-balls,  wliich,  under  the  name  of 
rosebuds,  hang  upon  the  bushes  all  winter  as  food  for  birds,  and  in 
dire  necessity  for  men,  the  numerous  streams  aiul  valleys  derive  their 
names. 

A  humble  but  hardy  variety  of  the  rose  thrives  and  blooms  amid 
the  cactus  of  such  sterile  coteau  plains  as  those  of  the  Custer  slaughter- 
field,  and  are  there  actually  found. 

23  "On  the  crest  of  the  cutcau  " 

Where  the  gallant  Custer  and  the  last  of  his  band  went  down  as  a 
phalanx,  and  where,  with  lUic  deference  to  the  views  of  others,  in  my 


'  .'I 


) 


.  ,1 


180 


NO'JES. 


huniblc  jiul^'incut,  Hiey  should  have  ever  remained.  It  is  the  abrupt 
leiniimis  of  llic  loiij^f  colcau-iid^^ir  upon  whicli  they,  relreatiuj,'  fi^ht- 
\\\'^,  fell,  sh)pin^  somewhat  in  all  direclions,  steeply  l)ut  heautirully 
upon  three  of  them,  thus  conunandinj;  a  clear  view  of  the  entire 
Indian  villa^'e  and  valley  of  the  Little  liij^-llorn  (or  Custer  River) 
for  many  miles,  with  all  the  slaughter-fields  of  that  day,  save  those 
of  Reno's,  the  first  of  which  is  somewhat  hidden  by  tim!)er,  and  the 
last  completely  by  an  intervening;  bluff. 

Some  of  these  words  were  inspired  and  written  u]ion  meeting  the 
returning  train  and  llie  remainder  of  them  upon  that  consecrated 
crest,  the  day  following  the  removal  of  ail  found  of  the  officers' 
remains. 

I  j//// cherish  the  opinion,  t/wn  formed,  that  few  itlaces  earthly  are 
as  lovely,  and  none  so  lilting  for  a  warrior's  cairn  or  hero's  monu- 
ment, as  where  some  of  them  fell ;  and  all  should  have  beiMi  gathered, 
and,  beneath  a  fitting  monument,  allowed  undisturbeil  repose  until 
(Jabriel's  reveille  should  rouse  them  to  their  last  rally. 

2'»  '■  Nor  bold  as  men  of  cournge  'g;iinst  rcninani  on  the  hill. 
But  prowling  'long  the  border,  the  iiniocciit  to  kill." 

The  failure  of  the  congregated  hostile  savages  of  the  Sioux  and 
several  other  Indian  nations  to  follow  up  the  rebuff  of  Crook,  the 
slaughter  of  Custer,  and  defeat  of  Reno  by  the  speedy  extermination 
of  the  remnant  of  the  regiuient  upon  the  hill,  and  then  cutting  up 
the  troops  of  Terry  and  Gibi)ons  in  detail,  as  they,  by  the  concerted 
action  of  organized  tnjop,  could  have  done,  but  instead,  as  they  really 
did,  i)y  revelling  in  brutal  mutilation  of  the  dead  upon  the  field,  until 
surprised  and  stampeded  from  it  by  the  handful  of  troops  under  Terry, 
and  then  lireaking  up  into  recruiting-p.irties  or  scalping-bands  along 
the  distant  border,  they  clearly  exemplified  the  true  Indian  character 
and  management  in  nearly  all  their  wars  with  the  whites. 

25  "  Proni  the  fairy  Min-ne-ha-ha  and  lover's  waibng  strand." 

Lover's  wailing  strand  of  Lake  Pepin,  as  noted  in  the  stanzas  of 
this  legend. 

"Swells  one  loud  wail  of  agony  from  sea  of  flame  and  gore, 
Like  scream  of  dying  eagle,  then  silence  evermore  !" 

For  the  credit  of  humanity  this  fate  has  not  befallen  the  main  por- 
tion of  the  Sioux  nation,  although  it  seemed  impending,  if  not,  in- 


<   ?a 


NOTES. 


i8i 


(Iced,  just  and  inevitable,  at  Ihe  time  when  tlie  words  were  written 
ii|H>ii  tlie  steamer  "  Asldand,"  while  aseeiidini:,' tlie  Wlluwsti.iie  River 
with  CJeneral  Miles,  soon  after  his  Rose-lhid  tli^ht  of  1S77. 


2'i  "  On  the  lianncvs  of  this  people  let  his  |)inioiis  sorir  :iliove, 
With  my  iiKiiilen's  c;ip  of  Justice,  of  Liberty,  ;in<l  Love  !" 

Pure,  Ioviii<^,  and  faithful  was  the  character,  hemic  the  life,  and 
trajj;ic  the  death  of  the  I  nuj^liino;  Water,  Min-nc-ha-ha,  and  immortal 
her  dir^'e,  as  with  the  lilended  voice  of  her,  in  life  and  in  death,  evcr- 
failhful  lover,  Min-ne-o-la,  it  re-echoes  alon^  the  cliffs,  or  in  mournful 
fadin.Lj  cai'ence  vanishes  'mid  the  whispcrinj^  ripples  in  the  wave- 
kissed  grottos  of  Lake  I'epin's  tranquil  shore. 

Still  it  is  not  she,  hut  her  heroic  mother,  the  remnnnt  of  the  pri- 
meval, and  parent  of  the  best  of  the  modern  red  men,  who  was  the 
heroine  of  this  lej;end. 

Whether  in  ttie  eai,de's  ncsi  upon  the  cliff  as  the  coiilidinf;  refui;ee 
of  a  drowning  race,  a  willing  listener  to  the  complaints  and  amelior- 
ator of  the  wants  and  woes  of  her  people  as  a  queen,  or  as  a  faithful, 
forgiving  wife  and  loving  mother,  indeed,  everywhere  in  her  entire 
legendary  history  are  harmoniously  blended  all  the  virtues  and  none 
of  the  vices  or  failings  of  the  real  or  legendary  heroines  of  other 
races  and  climes. 

Although  her  heroic  efforts  to  save  her  daughter  Min-nc-ha-ha  are 
requited  by  the  speedy  death  of  herself  and  sidjsc(iuent  relentless 
persecution  by  her  rum-frenzied  and  Cayouta-second-wife-instigated 
War-Eagle,  still  her  pure,  confiding  spirit  ever  hovers  in  love  (ner 
the  dwindling  remnant  of  her  race,  and  in  the  hour  of  just  retribution 
upon  that  of  her  fiendish  successor  in  the  love  and  favor  of  her 
debased  husband,  still  she  manifests  towards  his  memory,  in  all  their 
purity,  those  unselfish,  forgiving  attributes  of  the  female  character 
which  in  every  age  and  clime  have  been  its  greatv^^t  and  most 
mysterious  charm. 

All  her  cruel  and  countless  wrongs  are  overlooked  or  forgotten,  and 
from  the  ethereal  vault  of  hcavrn  she  only  recalls  the  memory  of 
W^ar  Eagle  as  the  chivnlric  rescuer  and  loving  husliand  of  her  youth, 
and  father  of  her  offspring;  and  in  /lis  hour  of  humiliation  and  de- 
spair, and  of  /wr  triumph,  as  the  herald  of  heaven  to  affix  upon  the 
banner  of  the  victorious  race  of  jmigress  the  delu^ijivsparcd  emblems 
of  her  primeval  race,  her  <'  maiden's  cap  of  justice,  of  Liberty,  and 

I6 


.  I 


i8a 


AOT/:s. 


Love,"  she,  willi  smiliiiR  an;^cls'  j^lidiiii;  K'"*'^'^^*  I^ln'it!^  boncath  it  the 
iDiii^-rctnined  ami  clR'UNlicd  pinnies  and  pinion  (luills  pliakcfl  fmm 
tlu)sc  of  iicr  War Maj^lu  ihicftaiii  in  tin-  days  of  his  imiity  and  pride. 
And  lliiis,  as  lelaled  in  this  ir-^cnd,  was  it  ordained  tiial  llie  em- 
blems upon  the  azure  field  of  the  battle-flag  of  the  nation  of  the 
nations  of  eartli,tlie  chosen  land  of  refuj^e  for  the  down-iroddcn  and 
oppressed  images  of  God  from  every  clime  and  race,  sliould  not  be 
debasinij  imitations  of  the  tyranny  and  crime-stained  banners  of 
other  lands,  but  rather  the  rescued  indi^eiu)us  enibkins  of  the  i)ri- 
nieval,  the  piercing  lance  and  arrow  t)f  the  warrior  red  men,  and  the 
heavenward-soaring  pinions  of  the  fearless  battle-eagle  of  our  own ! 


i 


i 


=7  THE    GOin.IN-LAND. 

Tliis  wild,  chaotic  region  of  eroded  lava,  within  or  adjoining  the 
norllieasicrn  portion  of  the  National  I'ark,  was  named  the  Hoodoo,  or 
Goblin-Land,  in  iSyoby  the  fnsl  party  of  white  men  who  are  known 
to  have  ever  visited  it. 

Some  members  of  the  party  were  tlierc  killed  by  the  Indians;  a)\d, 
accompanied  by  one  of  the  survivors,  I  was  driven  back  by  them  in 
1878,  but  sncceedeil  in  the  exploration  of  much  of  it  in  1S80,  a  brief 
narrative  of  which,  together  with  illustrations  of  some  of  the  gijbliu 
forms,  may  be  found  on  pages  6-9  of  my  report  of  that  year. 

Reference  to  these  regions  m.ay  also  be  found  on  page  47,  and  in 
the  map  accompanying  my  report  of  1S81. 

In  this  poetical  legend  1  liave  sought  to  blend  the  traditions  and 
heathen  mythology  of  the  sheep-eater  ab(5rigines  of  these  regions 
with  the  teachings  of  Insjjiralion  and  the  records  of  geology  regard- 
ing the  horizontal  columns  of  the  huge  vertical  dykes,  fantastic 
pillars,  facades,  and  domes,  the  crumbling  archways,  the  tortuous 
labyrinths  and  monster  goblin-forms  of  this  marvellous  extension  of 
the  famous  Wonder-Land. 

28  "  The  black  eagle  soars  round  tlie  pinnacle  high 

Till  a  vilcl  lamb  perceiving,  as  a  bolt  from  the  sky, 
In  his  talons  quick  bears  him  for  a  feast  in  the  glade, 
Near  the  lion  low  crouching,  whose  dinner  is  made 
Of  victor  and  victim,  In  tanglewood  shade." 

This  is  d  correct  statement  of  what  1  once  saw  in  the  Goblin  Laby- 


j\'0  TES. 


I  S3 


rlnths,  where  the  great  hhick  ea;;lc•^  in  vast  mimheis  appear  to  sub- 
sist mainly  upon  llie  carcasses  of  the  wiM  hiiulis  which  lliey  carry, 
or  of  the  sheep  wliieh  in  rapid  noisy  ciicUn;^'  lliey  lh.it  hewililer,  and 
then  with  win^,'  or  tah)n,  or  both,  assist  in  hurlin;;  from  the  loitering 
crests  or  crags  to  tlie  jagged  rocks  hundreds  of  feet  below. 

The  feasts  of  these  crafty  eagles  ujion  such  carcasses  are  some- 
times terminated  by  those  of  the  couehant  cougar,  or  mountain  lion, 
or  of  the  sneaking  wolverine  upon  their  own. 


'^  "  'liicn  mail,  hairy  giant,  strode  fnlli  in  lii-i  nii);lit." 

This  stan/a  is  believcil  to  express  in  a  concise  and  connected 
manner  the  attril)utes  of  the  I)iiied  man,  the  possessor  of  an  innnor- 
tal  soul,  as  distinct  from  the  (piadruped  or  other  animals  de-itilulc 
thereof,  ■.vhich  are, — • 

]''irst.  '♦  Erect  like  his  Maker,"  which,  unlike  any  other  known 
animal,  is  i:is  natural  and  hahilual  position  in  locomotion. 

Secoud.   "Willi  kno-vledge  of  right." 

Reliection,  rci.soning,  the  facnlly  of  tracing  effect  to  cause  nnd 
cause  to  effect,  and  ability,  pu;:ser.r"d  by  lU)  other  iniiu  li,  of  imparting 
connectedly  to  others  or  of  transmitting  tc  posterity  the  results  of  his 
experience  in  life. 

"Third.  '•Inventor  of  weapons." 

All  other  animals  rely  \.\\io\\  brute  force,  speed,  or  cunning. 

Man  alone  invents,  manufactures,  or  hal)itually  uses  weapons  in 
his  combats,  or  tools  or  implements  in  his  other  avocations;  and  these 
he  is  ever  improving,  while  the  products  of  instinct  are  ever  the  same. 
The  com!)  of  the  first  wasp  or  honey-b>.'e,  the  nest  of  the  original 
oriole  bird,  and  the  brush-dam  and  wickeup  of  tlie  wdiisker-faccd, 
])addle-tailed  jirogenitors  of  the  beaver-dam  builders  of  eartli  were  as 
marvellous  evidences  yi{  skill  and  of  adaptability  for  the  desired  pur- 
jjoses  as  are  those  of  tc-day  or  as  they  ever  will  be. 

F(jurlh.   "  First  builder  of  tire." 

Other  animals  may,  as  they  will,  bask  in  the  rays  of  the  sun,  or 
beside  a  hot  spring,  and  sometimes  warm  themselves  by  a  ih'e  already 
kindled,  but  only  man  ever  produces,  preserves,  or  materially  utilizes 
one. 

"  Fifth.  "  Lone  trader  of  trophies." 

Other  animals  may  unite  to  slaughter,  but  seldom  peaceably  divide, 
and  never  exchange,  the  fragments  obtaii:ed,  or,  as  has  been   well 


I 


184 


NO  77':S. 


said,  "No  flojr  tr.itlcs  his  bone;"  imr  does  any  otlic-r  ntiimal  lluii  man 
barter  what  he  has  for  what  he  desires,  or  ever  use  a  medium  of 
e\chaii);e  therefor. 

Sixth.  "  Willi  soul  to  soar  hi^^her." 

Despite  tlie  able  efforts  of  some  iiun  of  pre-emiue-it  abiUty  of  the 
present  and  the  past  to  refute  the  (h)Ctrinc  of  an  inunortal  soul  to 
temporarily  people  a  human  tenement  of  clay,  and  permanently  in- 
habit some  unknown  reabn  of  weal  or  woe,  still  the  theory  in  souie 
form  is  and  ever  has  been  vvelinij^h  co-extensive  with  the  hunum 
race.  This  is  notable  with  the  leadinj,'  tribes  of  the  North  ;\nuriean 
Indians,  whose  paradise  is  scjme  enchanting  island  or  lovely  park,  and 
their  perdition  a  chilling  alkali  desert,  or  some  fire-hole  basin  of 
seething  poisonous  gases  beyond  the  scorchy  ilescrts  or  snowy  moun- 
tains of  the  earth  on  which  we  ilwell. 

so  "  Mon,  merniaiils,  and  monsters,  each  spliinx-likc  in  place, 
Aiul  muuntains  luiilcd  o'er  tlnan,  from  1  leaven  liidcs  trace." 

As,  to  this  date,  less  than  a  score  of  white  men,  none  of  whom 
were  professional  scientists,  have  visited  the  (Joblin  Labyrinths,  their 
relative  position  and  rank  among  the  marvels  of  this  wonderfid  regii)n 
is  yet  to  be  accorded. 

Hut  to  the  mountaineers  who  have  visited  them  it  rcfpiires  little 
su]ierstitious  conjuring  to  imagine  that  the  huge  goblin  forms  which 
ou.  daring  mountain-horses  instinctively  slum  are  the  men,  nK)nsters, 
and  reptiles  of  a  degenerate  and  licentious  world,  overwhelmed, 
hidden,  and  fossilized  by  enormous  overflows  of  lava,  mud,  and 
slime,  and  unearthed  by  the  grooving,  furrowing,  and  tunnelling  of 
countless  ages  of  sub-alpine  erosion. 

31  "  And  men  of  the  mountains,  of  Shecp-F.ater  band, 
Of  game  and  of  i)hin(lcr  make  sacrifice  grand 
To  monster  slonc-gods  in  the  weird  '  (Joblin- Land.'  " 

The  maps  accon^panying  my  reports  of  1880  and  of  1 88 1  show  the 
position  of  the  most  eligible  site  and  evidently  ever-favorite  camping- 
place  for  the  aixjrtgines  of  these  regions,  and  where  there  are  now 
the  remains  of  forty-two  lodges,  some  of  which  are  still  standing. 

Upon  my  visit  of  iSSo  this  camp  was  strewn  with  the  torn  and 
faded  remiiants  of  male  and  female  apparel,  household  goods,  and 
utensils,  some  of  which  were  brought  away  as  mournful  mementos 


i 


NOTES. 


I«S 


of  l)ln()(ly  raids  nytun  the  distant  border,  from  which,  and  ridiii  a 
kiiowhMlj^e  of  the  superstitious  customs  and  liai>its  of  these  people, 
rather  than  from  direct  evidence  in  this  case,  I  venture  tlic  Un;ruak,'c 
of  burnt-offerinj;  in  tlie  poem  to  tliesc  weird  niunslers  of  stone,  which 
ti)  them  must  have  ever  been  objects  uf  my--ltri'ju s  awe,  and  hence 
of  sacrifice. 


f 


MYSTIC    LAKE    OF    WO  N' I)  K  R  - 1.  A  N  I). 

!I2  "  And  chilling  bhsts  resistless  come 

Adown  thy  fingers,  palm,  and  thumb." 

The  early  rovers  and  their  maps  of  tiicse  rei,Mons  represented  the 
iini(pie  contour  of  tlie  Yellowstone  Lake  as  more  nearly  rcsembliny 
an  open  liuman  hand  than  subsciiuent  explorations  seem  to  juslily. 

Still,  its  resemblance  to  the  extended  palm  of  the  right  hand,  with 

the  Upper  Yellowstone  enterinL;  the  extremity  of  the  little  fmger  from 

the  soulh,  the  main  river  discharj^Mn^;  from  the  wrist  at  the  northj  the 

forefmwer  now  severed  from  Delusion  Lake,  the  second  finger  much 

shortened,  with  the  western  thumb  relatively  enlarged,  and  the  main 

lake  or  jialm  nearly  as  wide  as  it  is  long,  which  is  more  striking  from 

some  adjacent  snowy  peaks  than  upon  a  map,  is  so  evident  that  these 

names  of  the  various  portions  of  the  lake  will  doubtless  long  adhere 

to  ihcm. 

3a  "  No  lent  can  stand,  no  blanUtt  save 

From  biting  blasts  that  round  ub  rave." 

Literally  true,  and  mainly  written  when  beached  and  fro/en-in 
near  the  mouth  of  Explorer's  Creek,  as  brielly  noted  on  page  1 1  of 
my  oftkial  report  of  1880, 

a*  "  Yet  practice  crimes  that  dark  disgrace 
Our  Christian  creed  and  bearded  race." 

Alas!  too  often  and  too  undeniably  true. 

With  relatively  few  worthy  exceptions,  the  policy  of  white  men 
has  ever  been  to  wantonly  crush,  or  to  employ  alike  the  worthy  and 
the  unworthy  red  men  as  allies  to  assail  and  divide  them,  to  practise 
and  condone  crimes,  pension  outlaws,  and  grant  annuities  to  the 
bloodiest  bands  of  savages,  in  order  to  secure  treaties  ceding  lands. 

16* 


1.S6 


NOTES. 


MiMMuhilc  the  steadfast  adlirrcnce  to  jK'acefiil  possission  «>f  valii- 
nl)lo  n^iiciiltur.il,  timlnrcil,  ui  miix  i.il  IiiuIh  l)y  their  iinciiicHtinncd 
Iiitlian  owners  is  dcciucd  the  sole  iin|iiirdonaliUf  crinu'  of  the  race, 
only  coudmicd  Iiy  thi-  siinriuler  of  the  Iai\il  or  ihi-ir  lives,  and  ufu'ii 
of  liDth,  alter  iiiicliroiiieled  aets  of  iieroisin,  rivalling  those  of  tiic 
lauilcJ  patriub  gf  uur  own  ur  of  «)thur  hituU. 

>*  "  Viwon  ami  urns  from  naliirc'H  liaml." 

The  |)niIon},Mtion  of  Mary's  May,  near  thi-  Indian  Pond,  between 
the  inuiiili  of  iVlicin  Creek  and  Steanthoat  Point,  upon  the  Yellow- 
stone Lake,  was  by  myself  named  Corurelion  Cove,  from  the  count- 
less numbers  and  various  forms  of  concretions  which  there  fairly 
shinj;le  llie  wave-Iashcd  beach. 

On  pa^es  15-17  of  my  report  of  iSSo  may  be  found  a  description 
of  this  location  and  these  concretion-.,  toj^cther  with  a  theory  as  to 
their  formation  ;  and  on  pa^'es  70  and  71  of  that  of  iSSi  illustrations 
of  some  of  these  uni((ue  forms. 


I 


V 


i 


**  "  Ami  fiiiny  forms  bcnc.iih  tlic  w.ive 
l'\)r  anglei's  bait  hot  current  brave, 
'I'o  find,  ;ilas  !  llkt;  liiim;in  fool, 
A  barb  coiicoalcd  aiul  scctbini;  pool." 

Of  the  countless  marvels  of  the  National  I'ark,  few  have  been  more 
ridiculed,  and  the  reality  of  none  is  now  better  established,  than  that 
tlie  large  and  beautiful  but  worm-infested  trout  of  the  Yellowstone 
Lake  at  several  localities,  notably  where  our  trail  leaves  the  end  of 
I  he  thuml)  for  the  Shoshone  Lake,  may  be  cau<fht  in  countless  num- 
bers in  the  lake  anil  cooked  in  hissinj^  pools  without  the  angler 
changing  his  position  or  removing  them  from  the  hook. 

"7  "  And  thence  from  nauseous  hissing  rill 
Sweet  flow'ry  vale  with  poi.son!i  till." 

This  description  of  the  changing  character  of  many  of  the  tividets 
in  the  Wonder-Laud  may  be  verilicd  by  any  tourist  wlu)  will  follow 
them  from  their  snow  or  crystal  spring  foiuitains  through  nauseous 
ponds  or  basins  of  hissing,  sulphun  us  ])ools,  and  the  flowery  grove- 
dotted  vale  below  them,  all  perhaps  within  the  distance  of  a  mile  or 
two. 

A  typical  case  is  the  crystal  rill  from  the  snows  of  Mount  Chitten- 


t 


NOTES, 


.S7 


drn,  upon  wliiili  I  liavi  often  cMmpdl  aliovt;  'I'mliid  I,aK»',  upon  the 
»hotcH  of  whicli,  upon  its  sumlu-asiiru  triluilniy,  or  ;ilon^^  it^  ontlct, 
Mo  liuiuaii  Ill-ill^  would  wisit  to  cunip,  or  couUl  lon^  enduru  tlio 
siilpliur  fmncs  and  poisonous  fcjivstJs  of  an  earthly  puryatory. 

*•  "  Aixl  M:m<!t  thiiic,  roclc-riMiiul  anil  hi|ih, 
Willi  miowy  crusts  iiiiuil  the  sky  : 
Inverted,  mirrored  'no.-fth  tliv  wuvos, 
Secin  Uleii  tu  graut  'mid  inlundit'  graves," 

While  Stevenson's,  Krank's,  and  some  of  tlic  smaller  islan<ls  of  the 
\'fHo\vstonc  Lake  are  samly,  and  hut  sli^lilly  elevated  uhove  its  sur- 
face, several  of  the  headlands  anil  lon^  promonturiiN,  as  that  hc- 
tween  the  thinl  and  Utile  tinker,  are  hoM,  craj^^y,  and  lia'altie  peaks, 
having  oidy  lelalively  low,  narrow  connections  with  tlu-  mainland. 
These,  in  the  usually  deep  tranipiil  hlue  waters  at  their  hase,  are  often 
rellfcted  so  accurately  as  to  reproduce  them  inverted  l)ei\eath  the 
waves,  as  here  deserihed. 

vu  <<  l.',,r  fiiod  ilieir  fksli,  for  laiiiting-sliirt, 
'I'licir  vacant  coat  with  belt  beiiirl?" 

From  necessity,  eonvenience.or  utility,  the  Indians,  half-hreeifs,  and 
often  the  white  rovers  of  the  holder,  use  rolie>,  overcoats,  hoots,  and 
cajis  of  the  Indes  of  the  wolf,  wolverine,  hear,  or  Imlfalo,  dressed 
with  the  fur  on,  and  huntinjr-shirls,  le^j^ins,  and  mweeasins  of  elk-, 
sheep-,  or  deer-skins  ilressed  without  it. 

In  fact,  the  only  cloth  fahrie  which  I  have  ever  found  a  leliahle 
protection  alike  from  the  niereile>s  storms,  the  iIkum,  and  weatlier- 
worn  points  of  the  shruhs  and  hranclies  of  those  mountain  regicuis, 
was  the  famous  Hudson  Hay  mountain-coat. 

This,  with  a  half-cape,  was  made  of  cloth  luivintj  a  warp  nearly 
as  coarse  and  stronjr  as  fish-lines,  and  woof  of  twisted  beaver  or 
other  fur  with  a  very  heavy  nap,  and,  althou^di  common  in  those  re- 
gions forty  or  fifty  years  ago,  has  for  a  long  time  heen  unobtainable. 

Like  these  garments,  the  Hint-lock  gun  and  bull-boat  of  the  past, 
the  d;  ys  of  the  hunting-shirt,  the  moccasin,  and  even  the  buffalo  and 
his  ro  le,  an.  rajiidly  i»assing  away  ;  and  hence  these  quoted  and  suc- 
ceeding stai.zas  are,  it  is  hoped,  pardonable  from  one  who  has  par- 
ticipated in  two  eras  of  border-life,  and  has  ever  earnestly  sought  to 
assist  in  hastening  a  better  one  for  those  who  aie  soon  to  folK)W. 


>  --J  <^. 


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1 88 


NOTES. 


GALT.ANT    CHARLEY    REYNOLDS. 


ti 


*)  "  Onrc  the  chosen  scout  of  Stanley, 
Ofien  I.iullow's  munntain  j;uide,' 
'i'licn  with  mc  erst  true  and  manly, — 
'I'hoii  who  with  our  Custer  died  1" 

Few  of  the  (1arin<;  scouts  of  the  border  ever  acquired  a  greater 
mintl)cr  of  friends,  a  more  brilliant  record,  or  met  a  more  tragic  or 
lamented  fate  than  the  gallant  ("harley  Reynolds. 

Upon  our  return  from  the  National  I'ark  late  in  1S75,  he  remained 
at  I'ort  Lincoln,  where  he  was  employed  as  chief  of  scouts,  and  as 
such  led  them  in  the  Custer  campaij;n  until,  with  Bloody  Knife  and 
others,  he  was  cut  off  from  Reno's  left  Hank  in  his  hasty  retreat  from 
the  ambuscade  in  the  fated  valley  of  the  Little  IJig-horn  on  the  day 
of  the  Custer  massacre,  and  there  fell  bravely  fighting  until  nearly 
covered  by  fallen  steeds  and  foes. 

Erom  the  half-breed  French  scout,  T.  T.  Gerhard,  who  witnessed 
and,  by  concealment  in  the  willows,  alone  escaj)ed  the  massacre  of 
those  thus  cut  off,  I  learned  the  location,  and  after  the  removal  of  the 
bones  of  Custer  and  other  officers  in  1S77,  found  and  removed  those 
of  Re;  nolds,  together  with  all  of  his  well-known  beautiful  golden 
hair,  which  savage  ghoul  and  famished  wolf  had  s])ared.  Scmie  of 
this  I  still  retain,  but  the  most  of  it  has  been  scattered  far  and  wide, 
notably  in  Kentucky,  in  the  earnest  but  fruitless  etTort  to  find  his 
birthplace  or  his  kindred  and  heirs  ;  nor  have  I  ever  learned  much  of 
his  history  in  addition  to  that  published  with  this  poem  in  my  journal 
of  "  Rambles  in  the  Far  West"  soon  after  his  death,  from  which  I 
quote  as  follows : 

"  After  the  removal  of  the  officers'  remains,  the  scout  Baronet 
and  myself  remained  upon  or  near  the  field  until  driven  from  it  by 
Lidian  scouts,  as  may  be  foimd  in  a  note  to  *  Reynolds's  Uirge,'  a 
jjortion  of  which  was  then  written. 

•*  As  stated,  we  were  much  together  in  the  Bad  Lands,  and  nearly 
constantly  upon  the  steamboat,  and  our  excursions  from  it  while  de- 
scending the  Missouri  to  Fort  Lincoln,  where  we  parted. 

»•  He  was  engaged  as  chief  of  scouts  for  this  campaign,  hoping  for 
its  successful  close  in  lime  for  him  and  other  mountain  friends  to 
accompany  me  to  the  Centennial,  and,  returning,  spend  the  coming 
winter  at  my  suburban  home.     He  was  perhaps  thirty  years  of  age, 


1      * 


A'OTF.S. 


189 


light  complexion  and  hair,  of  medium  hci}^'ht,  hut  compact  huihl, 
moral,  temperate,  mihl,  and  quiet,  until  emergency  called  foith  the 
matchless  nerve  and  daring  that  made  him  the  leading  shot  and  scout 
of  the  Missouri  or  the  Yellowstone.  He  was  frank  hut  not  con- 
fiding. I  never  heard  his  nativity,  and  though  hi^;  expressed  desiio 
to  see  an  eastern  city,  and  much  of  his  appearance  indicated  a  horn 
mountaineer,  still  his  morals,  his  (juiet,  refmcd  manners,  and  a  per- 
vading melancholy  when  alone  or  at  leisure,  alike  suggestcil  a  heltcr 
rearing  and  a  crushing  misfortune  or  thrilling  tragedy  somewhere 
along  his  brief  but  checkered  pathway.  Premeditated  crime  I  cannot 
believe  of  '  Lonesome  Charley,'  as  he  was  often  called;  but  scions 
of  many  wealthy  families,  especially  from  the  Southern  border  States, 
during  the  closing  scenes  of  the  Rebellion,  sought  amid  the  mines 
and  the  mountains  of  the  West  a  refuge  from  harrowing  memories  of 
ravaged  homes  and  slaughtered  friends;  and  several  trifling  incidents 
lead  me  to  suspect  that  he  was  one  of  them. 

"  'Mid  shadows  of  the  setting  sun,  echoes  from  the  evening  gun  at 
Fort  Huford  roused  us  from  hours  cjf  pensive  wanderings  'mid  the 
ruins  of  old  Fort  Union  and  the  cemetery  near  Fort  lUiford,  when, 
with  a  last  lingering  look  at  the  turfy  tond)  of  slaughtered  friends, 
and  with  a  heart  too  full  for  utterance,  I  was  leaving  the  enclosure  in 
silence,  when  Charley,  in  quiet  hut  frank,  earnest  manner,  said, 
'  Comrade,  I  am  dreaming  where  a  year  hence  will  find  us.'  Prophetic 
dread,  my  noble  fated  comrade  !  That  was  at  eve  of  September  25, 
1875.  Upon  the  eve  of  June  25  following,  his  scalped  and  mutilated 
body  lay  amid  and  nearly  covered  by  foes,  slaughtered  by  his  aveng- 
ing hand  at  the  crimson  ford  of  the  Little  Morn.  July  25  my  last 
letter  to  him  was  returned,  soiled  and  worn,  but  unopened.  Sep- 
tember 25,  by  a  protecting  Providence  kept  at  my  peaceful  home, 
sorrowfully  I  spent  the  closing  eve  of  the  fated  year  in  penning  the 
following  jioetry  in  feeling,  if  not  in  fact,  sacred  to  the  memory  of 
that  comrade  of  a  year  ago,  far,  far  away." 

It  seems  proper  to  here  state  that  the  foregoing  poem  and  note  were 
written  before  personally  visiting  the  battle-field  and  finding  that 
Reynolds  was  killed  in  or  beside  the  •'  Crimson  Ford,"  as  from  the 
first  publication  was  then  supposed. 


':'         1 
■        ,1 

i     ■ 
i! 

i, 
1 
•1 

190 


41 


AO  T/:s. 


PILT.RIMS    or    THE    YELLOWSTONE. 


This  k-j^ciid  is  loss  n  nanalivc  of  the  siiffcrinj^s  and  falc  of  any  one 
))arty  than  a  portrayal  of  tlie  datij^ers,  jirivalions,  and  sufTcrinys  of  all, 
and  the  slauf^hltT  of,  alas !  too  many  of  the  jjold-seekin^  jiil^rims 
who,  under  Ihidj^cr,  Ho/enian,  and  other  darinjj  pathfinders,  literally 
left  a  trail  of  j^ore  from  the  I'lalle  to  the  Vellt)\vstonc  in  fiyhtinj;  their 
way  If)  found  an  empire  in  the  (lallatin  and  other  lovely  valleys  of 
Montana  j)rior  to  and  dnrinj;  the  ferocious  Red  Cluud  Sioux  war. 


THE    CAPTIVE    MAIDEN. 

*•  "  Rise,  my  muse,  sing  of  a  maiilen 
Captive  on  the  cotcau  wild," 

This  poem  was  written  hy  refjuest:  of  the  lamented  Major  Meacham, 
and  was  mainly  published  in  his  Coiiiuil  Fire. 

It  is  deemed  an  essenlioUy  correct  narrative  of  the  valor  of  the 
chieftain  lover,  and  heroic  death  of  the  captive  maiden  after  the 
Rose-Bud  fight  of  General  Miles  with  the  Cheyennes  in  1877. 


THE    WONDER-LAND. 

^  "  Oh,  for  wisdom  in  the  councils 
Of  our  nation  great. 
To  protect  these  matchless  wonders 
From  a  ruthless  fate  !" 

This  poem  was  written  in  Washington,  and  used  in  manuscript  in 
the  spring  of  1878  to  aid  in  securing  the  first  appropriation  of  funds 
ever  made  by  Congress  to  protect,  preserve,  and  improve  the  people's 
heritage  of  wonders  in  the  Yellowstone  National  Park,  and  hence 
the  language  of  the  last  verse,  as  above  quoted. 


NOTES. 


BOLD    HERO    OK    THE    HORDER. 


191 


**  "  In  lair  of  hiiiileii  giilclics,  in  W'ootly  Minmtaiii  wikls." 

Woody  Mountain  is  a  tinihered  oullitT  of  tlic  Little  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, between  the  Missouri  River  at  the  mouth  of  the  Musst-Isliell 
and  the  Uritish  possessions,  and  from  its  abundance  of  fuel,  water, 
yawning  gulches,  and  wash-outs  coulees,  an  admirable  positit)U  for 
defensive  warfare. 

As  such  it  was  chosen  by  Chief  Joseph,  after  having  defeateil  or 
oulgcneralled  and  distanced  all  known  jiiirsuers,  and  losing  the  most 
of  his  enormous  herd  of  horses  by  the  treachery  of  his  old  allies,  the 
ever-crafty  Crows, 

It  was  this  which  prevented,  if  he  desired,  his  reacliing  Silting 
Bull,  over  the  l?ritisli  border,  before  the  flanking  arrival  of  (iencral 
^^des.  Chief  Joseph's  camps  througliout  the  National  Park  and  the 
adjacent  regions  were  uniformly  well  cht)sen  and  rudely  but  craftily 
prepared  for  defence;  and  liis  crossing  mighty  rivers,  scaling  snowy 
mountains,  and  traversing  yawning  canons  in  a  continuous  migration 
of  his  whole  peojile  for  a  distance  of  nearly  two  thousand  miles, 
mainly  through  the  wildest,  most  elevated,  craggy,  least  known,  and 
least  accessible  portion  of  the  United  States,  without  forage,  commis- 
sary, medicines,  or  supplies  other  than  furnished  by  nature  or  cap- 
tured from  his  cordon  of  able  foes,  must,  all  things  considered,  stand 
unrivalled  in  the  history  of  border  warfare  upon  this  continent. 

That  Chief  Joseph  viewed  with  derision  Generals  Howard,  Gibbon, 
Sturgis,  and  others,  really  wouhy  officers,  whom  he  had  defeated  or 
distanced,  is  well  known  ;  that  he  was  ignorant  of  the  flank  move- 
ment of  General  IMiles  is  evident;  and  that  he  relied  upon  Sitting 
Bull  for  aid  in  defence  of  his  camp  and  immense  booty  captured  on 
the  Missouri,  and  the  slaughter  of  his  pursuers  if  they  ventured  to 
assail  his  chosen  position,  seems  very  probable ;  and  hence  oidy  the 
terrible  onslaught  of  General  Miles's  unexpected  forces  in  a  terrific 
snow-storm,  the  death  of  Looking-Glass,  his  ablest  chief,  the  utter 
failure  of  aid  from  Sitting  Bull,  and  the  approach  of  Howard  and 
other  pursuers,  resulted  in  his  capture  when  nearly  in  sight  of  the 
British  line. 


192 


NO'/'J'IS. 


« 


«    ' 


•  "  Then  came  the  parley  herald,— no  servile  crinKin>;  foe, 
litit  chieftain  with  his  rilh-,  liie  victors'  tcrnm  to  know." 

In  this  way  nuly,  dauiilk'ss  lo  llic  List,  would  Chief  Joscpli  Mie  for 
tirms  of  siinciuUr,  and  even  then  aci;e|)l  such  only  as  sccin  to  have 
rellc'ctcd  more  credit  upon  the  vaKir  of  the  Ne/I'ereos  in  the  con- 
ditions named  than  the  reputed  failin-e  of  their  proper  fullilment  did 
upon  the  civil  representatives  of  the  govermnent. 


S  T  A  L  W  A  R  T    Y  E  O  M  A  N. 

48  "  Not  from  hall  of  the  Waslihiirns, 

Who  so  long  have  lionor'tl  Maine, 
But  lowly  '  niickcye'  cabin 
Our  stalwart  yeoman  came." 

General  II.  D.  Washburn  was  born  and  reared  a  hunter  in  the 
then  wilds  of  Northwestern  Ohio.  I  there  first  knew  him,  an  active, 
ambitious  youth;  thence  a  surveyor  in  Western  Indiana;  from  there 
he  became  an  active  soldier  durinj^  the  Rebellion,  returning  a 
brij^adier-general,  to  be  at  once  elected  to  Congress  over  the  great 
Democratic  champion,  Daniel  Voi)rhees,  often  called  the  "Tall  Syca- 
more of  the  Wabash." 

Upon  my  arrival  from  the  Upper  Yellowstone  in  Jnne,  1870,  I 
found  him  surveyor-general  of  Montana.  Both  of  us  being  enthusi- 
astic explorers,  it  was  with  deep  regret  that  I  parted  with  him  to 
descend  the  Columbia,  hoping  we  would  unite  in  an  expedition  to 
the  Park  the  next  year.  But  perverse  fate  otherwise  ordered ;  a 
small  party  was  suddenly  organized,  with  him  as  leader,  when  he  as 
usual  acquitted  himself  to  the  satisfaction  of  all,  who  by  unanimous 
vote  gave  his  name  to  the  highest  peak  within  the  Park. 

The  dangers  and  duties  of  a  useful  life,  however,  were  rapidly 
closing.  Exposure  in  the  gases  and  storms  of  the  Park,  with  efforts 
and  anxiety  for  Everts  in  his  thirty-seven  days  of  peril,  revived  a  lung 
disease  contracted  in  the  army. 

But  no  loving  wife  or  children  greeted  his  return  to  Helena.  In- 
stead came  tidings  that  after  much  of  a  summer  spent  in  trying  to 
reach  him  via  Missouri  River  and  Fort  Benton,  low  water  und  hos- 
tile Indians  compelled  their  return  to  Indiana.     There,  broken  in 


-.. 


iu 


NOTES. 


I- 
icl 


'93 


health  and  spirit,  utterly  worn  out  by  disease  and  exposure,  lie  readied 
tlieiu  during;  die  winter,  only  to  die  in  llie  arms  of  liiose  lie  so  ten- 
derly loved. 

Not  the  ties  of  kindred,  hut  of  principles,  uiiiteil  him  with  the 
nol)le  Washburn  family  of  New  Kn},dand  ;  and  ihuiij^h  lieroie  in  lite 
and  noble  in  death,  the  fathomless  canon  at  the  base,  the  brilliant 
snowy  sides  and  rocky  summit  of  Mount  Washburn  may  jierchance 
guide  the  tourist  in  the  Wonder-Land  long  after  all  else  of  him 
shall  be  forgotten. 


THE    DVINC:    MANDANS. 


•iz* 


<^  "  Oh,  ghastly  scene  of  horror  ! 
Oh,  yhastly  town  of  doom  ! 
No  liope  in  duwn  of  morrow. 
No  h;ilo  'mill  the  gloom." 

History  is  silent,  tradition  meaj;re  and  coiiniclinij,  as  to  the  oriijin 
or  early  history  of  the  Maiulans;  but  the  circular  ruins  of  their  earth- 
lodges  in  numerous  deserted  villages  are  proof  ])osiiive  of  their  former 
numbers  and  successive  removals  hundreds  o{  miles  up  the  Missouri 
River,  constantly  dwindling  before  their  more  savage  and  warlike 
neighbors  to  the  mouth  of  the  I'ig  Knife  River, 

There  Lewis  and  Clarke  found  a  remnant  of  a!)out  two  thousand  of 
them  in  1804,  and  subsequently  Catlin,  Irving,  and  others,  who  had 
enjoyed  their  hospitality,  with  pen  or  jiencil  heralded  their  fame; 
and  there,  while  hemmed  in  their  villages  by  the  ever  ferocious 
Sioux,  they,  together  widi  other  confederate  villagers,  were  nearly 
exterminated  in  1S38  by  the  ravages  of  the  smalli>ox,  or  by  bathing, 
Indian-like,  in  the  chilling  waters  of  the  Missouri,  in  the  ho[)e  of 
checking  the  disease. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  theorize,  as  others  have  done,  of  the  origin  ; 
these  stanzas  faintly  portray  the  fate  of  the  most  civilized  of  all  the 
Northwestern  Indian  nations. 

But,  as  being  a  subject  of  general  and  permanent  interest,  1,  from 
personal  knowledge,  endeavor  to  describe  the  famous  conical  earth- 
lodge,  which  is  conceded  to  have  been  the  invention  of  this  people. 

First,  a  dry,  commanding  position  is  chosen,  usually  in  the  bend 
I         «  17 


194 


AOJ'i-:s. 


,1 


,<     » 


of  a  river,  for  hoth  wafer  nnd  defem-c,  an<l  a  stroiiR  stockade  of  Iof»- 
l)ickcts  constiiicti'd  across  llic  neck.  'I'licii  each  j^miipof  kindred  or 
friends  cxcavati!  a  dilcli  around  a  sonicwiiat  ohlonj^  circle,  (idni  Imly 
It)  sixly  '"eel  in  diameter,  some  two  feet  deep,  and  wide  enough  for 
material  tvi  make  the  lloor  to  the  circle  or  lodj^e  perfectly  level,  which 
is  heaten  down  very  hard  and  smooth.  Next.savinj^  a  space  thereon 
four  feet  wide  for  a  door  way,  a  compact  mw  of  posts  is  set  iii  the  ditch 
outside  of,  anil  leaninj^  at  an  an^le  of  ten  to  twenty  dc;»rces  a;;ainst, 
tiie  hank  of  earth,  rising  al)out  six  feet  above  it,  and  a  rouj^h  plate 
l)laced  upon  the  lop  entirely  around  the  circle,  'i'heii  near  the  centre, 
four  tall,  strong;  crotches  or  posts  with  notches  in  the  top  arc  set,  with 
tindiers  upon  them,  so  as  to  leave  a  space  four  or  five  feet  square  for 
smoke-hole  and  window.  Next,  a  compact  layer  of  rafter-timhers, 
with  the  lar^'cr  ends  on  the  outside,  and  smaller  ends  on  the  tcnire 
l)lales,  and  middle  supported  and  somewhat  elevated  by  another  row 
of  posts  and  supporting;  timbers,  havinj;  their  cracks  and  cri'vices  cnre- 
fully  calked  with  coarse  ^rass  and  daul)ed  with  tou^li  mud.  'riicn 
aj^ainst  the  outside  posts  a  heavy  hank  of  earth  is  thiowp,  and  over 
the  entire  roof  a  fool  or  so  of  the  alkali  earlh  of  the  p'ains.  This, 
with  its  natural  tendency  to  pack,  and  heini;  coi\stantly  occu])ied  as  a 
lookout-,  rom])in<;-,  and  louni^ing-j^rouiid  for  Indians  and  do<;s  of 
all  a^es  and  sexes,  soon  becomes  perfectly  smooth,  wind-,  water-, 
fire-,  and  bullet-proof.  In  the  centre  is  a  depression  for  the  fire,  and 
around  agaiuNt  the  walls  the  famdy  rooms,  often  tastefully  partitioned 
by  skins  and  blankets,  and  on  the  posts  jjaudy  shields  and  other  war 
weapons  and  ornaments.  In  ihese  the  ruile  bedsteads  are  formed  by 
low  crotchc-  and  cross-poles,  each  covered  by  a  i;reen  buffalo-skin, 
liair  up,  which  in  dryin<4  stretches  very  smoothly,  and  with  abundance 
of  robes  and  blankets  forms  a  welcome  bed.  never  forj^olten  by  a 
weary  or  wounded  trapper  in  a  hospitable  Mandan  lodge  as  of  old. 
Vill.ajj[es  thus  built  around  a  central  court  forj^ossip,  dance,  and  coun- 
cil arc  worthy  of  a  jiatent,  and  any  civilized  land  would  have  lon<r 
since  been  plastered  wi^l^em ;  and  tliouL,'h  the  invention  of  a  rude 
people  in  a  prehistorii^Hf  so  nicely  do  ihey  meet  their  requirements 
of  climate,  surroundings,  .and  safety,  that  a  rude  chimney  and  an  oc- 
casional small  window,  when  near  the  whites,  are  all  the  inqirove- 
ments  attempted  since  I  have  known  them;  and,  in  fact,  the  earth- 
roof  is  now  in  nearly  universal  use  by  the  whites  throughout  all  those 
arid  regions. 


N07ES. 


195 


Tin:    I)  VI  NT,    TKAPPKR. 

^  "  H.inl  l)y  llio«e  ^poiitinj;  fountains, 
I''ar,  (ill,  far  away  ! 
llone  wiih  hin  frays  and  ^coutings, 
A  dyini;  trapper  lay." 

Thisc  stanzas  are  a  heartfelt  tribute  to  tlio  memory  of  a  trapper 
comradL',  svln)  fell  and  dii-il  licsido  nic,  as  tlurcin  portrayed,  luar  a 
spouliiij,'  fountain  in  a  lonely  fjlcn  of  the,  as  then  called,  "  Hiij-born 
Mountains,"  cast  of  the  Yellowstone  Lake,  in  tlie  days  lon^  a^'one; 
ami  the  words  of  the  second  line  of  each  verse  are,  so  far  as  I  ant 
aware,  the  only  ones  in  the  Enyli-.h  language  which  rhyme  with  the 
AI)-sa-ra-ka  Burial  Refrain. 


JJOZKMAN    JJOLD. 


<o  "  I'liU-hoat  and  raft,  mustang  and  niidc." 

Bull-boat  is  an  Indian  craft  peculiar  to  the  turbid  sandbar  rivers  of 
the  treeless  plains,  where  swarming  with  buffalo,  and  are  thus  con- 
structed : 

The  hair  and  flesh  are  removed  from  a  green  buffalo-hide  which 
has  not  been  severed,  or  has  been  reattached  between  the  ujjpcr  por- 
tion of  the  hind  legs.  This  is  then  stretched  very  tightly  over  cir- 
cular hoops  and  connecting  ribs  of  willow  or  other  light  brush  or 
small  poles,  and,  being  thus  allowed  lo  dry,  forms  a  circular  boat 
from  four  to  six  feet  in  diameter  and  nearly  two  feet  deep,  or  in  a 
form  not  unlike  a  huge  flaring-topped  chccscdjox  or  a  monster,  very 
flat -bottomed,  j)olash -kettle. 

They  are  sometimes  made  of  two  hides,  Wfll  attached  with  elk, 
beaver,  or  buffalo  sinews,  and  arc  then  I'^Hktely  larger.  They  have 
little  steerage,  but,  in  border  jargon,  "hoqw,  heaps  of  float,"  and 
are  so  tough  that  they  are  seldom  stove  on  rocks  or  snags,  and  so 
buoyant  as  to  whirl  arouml  or  glide  over  snags,  sand-bars,  or  obstacles 
liable  to  wreck  nearly  any  other  known  craft,  as  I  well  know  from 
personal  experience,  having  at  various  limes  in  them  descended 
nearly  all  of  the  mighty  rivers  of  the  great  plains. 


196 


N07FS. 


With  nil  tlii'sc  ndvnntuj'os  tlioy  nrc  so  lij^lil  that,  aftor  n  brief  t]r>'in{» 
in  (he  Mill  mill  wind,  the  lusty  pack  Imrte  sr|tinw  of  n  Inzy  villa^^'C 
liuiian  brave  will  dexterously  Idhh  one  of  ilu-se  hoatn  inverted  over 
her  head,  and  with  it  speedily  ro^nin  upon  the  hanks  the  distance  lost 
in  the  ohlii|ue  (Ksceiit  of  crossing  the  wide  nnil  fuainiii);  Missouri  or 
the  Wllowstone. 

This  is  liut  one  of  the  many  inventions  of  man  for  ulili/inj;  the 
])rovisions  of  nature  in  surniouiiiing  peculiarities  uf  these  ie;;iun8 
seemingly  unsurinoun table. 


I 


i 


W  "  War-path  ford  of  (row  anH  llriile." 

An  ancient  ford  of  the  Yellowstone  near  the  eonnuciice  (tf  the 
Shields  River,  below  the  j^ate  of  the  mountains,  famous  in  all  legends 
uf  Iiulian  and  border  warfare, 

*'  "  Sure,  phantom-warriors  caused  the  doom." 

There  is  no  <|ucstioii  as  to  the  date  or  the  place  of  Bozeman's 
death,  was  in  iSr)S,  upon  the  south  bank  of  the  Yellowstone 

Iviver,  a  miles  below  its  };ate  of  the  mountains.     Rut  the  versions 

rej^ardinj;  the  premonitions  and  rejiuted  vision  of  his  family,  and  the 
warning  of  his  death,  whicli  are  said  to  have  caused  the  stoic  indiffer- 
ence with  which  so  famous  a  scout  and  fearless  Indian-fijjhtcr  met  his 
fate,  are  singularly  conflicting. 

The  version  which,  in  the  light  of  subsequent  events  and  reputed 
dying  confessions  of  some  of  the  participants,  differs  somewhat  from 
that  current  when  I  was  there  soon  after  his  death,  and  which  was 
literally  followed  in  penning  this  poetical  tribute  to  his  deeds  and 
death. 


THE    CLOUD-CIRCLED    MOUNTAINS. 

62  "My  heart's  in  the  mountains/'  etc. 

These  stanzas  were  originally  published  as  the  close  of  an  address 
to  the  patrons  of  the  •'  Norris  Suburban,"  upon  my  leaving  for  the 
Wonder- Land  in  1877.    ' 


iXOTES. 


197 


WIlKUi:    KLSK    ON    F.  ART  11? 

W  "  Wliere  cl<i«  on  turth  due*  water  fiiriii>l> 
Kmky  cvidciii  c  m<  utrnnn 
Of  il:i  powrr  to  hiiilil  uikI  biiriiisl), 
A»  ihi"  Icrrucc,  higli  ami  lon^?" 

TIu-  Icirciic  Mnuiifain  in  llii-  N;ilioiii\l  Paik,  which  is  two  niili-s  in 
Icii^tli,  lu'nrly  oiu-  ihniisiunl  feit  hij^h  from  the  valley  of  the  west  lurli 
of  tilt-  (Jaitliiirr  KiviT  above,  aiitl  more  than  two  ihuiisaiwl  feet  from 
the  cafton  of  tlic  main  Gardiner  l)elow  it,  all  of  which  has  apparently 
been  formed  hy  the  »erracc  hiiiMin;^  spring's,  of  which  the  fatnous 
Mammoth  Hot  Spriiij;s,  wlicncc  wc  supply  our  table,  bath-houses, 
anil  irrigate  our  j^arden  at  the  licadciuartcrs  of  the  Talk,  is  only  the 
dwindling  remnant. 

M  "  I.oih;  its  waves,  hy  tempest  driven, 

Fiercely  laihcd  its  scetliinj;  shore." 

Doubtless  true,  as  the  shore-line  terraces  of  the  ancient  lake  are 
Mill  i)lainly  traceable  upon  the  sides  of  the  Terrace  Mountain  and  yf 
llunsen's  I'cak. 

W  "  Then  the  cvcr-lashinu  billows 

Rent  a  gap  in  niounlain-sidc." 

This  monsfcr  erosion  in  the  side  of  IJunsen's  Teak,  and  the  yawn- 
ing impassable  canon  of  the  west  fork  of  the  (Jardiner,  between  it 
and  tlie  Terrace  Mountain,  are  in  plain  view  from  the  balcony  of  our 
hcadcpiarters  at  the  Mammolh  Hot  Springs,  three  miles  distant. 


W  "  Hence  these  ruins  weird  iiiid  fearful, 
And  the  clifTs  so  white  and  grand." 

With  a  clear-cut  outline  against  the  sky,  the  vertical  snowy -white 
walls  of  the  calcareous  marbleized  ancient  Hot  Spring  deposits  rise 
many  hundreds  of  feet  above  the  successive  miles  of  the  angular 
del-ris  along  the  Gardiner  below,  of  the  cause  or  magnitude  of  which 
the  casual  observer  will  form  no  adequate  conception. 

Oidy  by  days  of  rugged  dangerous  cliff-climbing  upon  and  beneath 
the  Terrace  Mountain,  near  the  Rustic  Falls,  and  along  the  foot  of 
the  while  cliffs,  can  a  tourist  obtain  even  a  superficial  knowledge 
of  the  gigantic  scale  upon  which  frost,  fire,  and  flood  have  alternately 

17* 


iqS 


XOTF.S. 


Ituilt  up,  fractured,  ami  r:(,«lci|  thin  rcgiitn.  Williin  n  ili>l;»ncc  nf 
four  iniU-s  fiom  mir  lici\il>|u;irteiH,  niid  niatuly  witliiu  (tlaiii  view 
thiTCDf,  air  tlic  simiiniK  nf  llunNUn's  Peak,  an  well  as  of  the  Kverls,^ 
Tfi race,  and  Si-pukhrc  Mountains,  the  yawning;  cartons  ofllio  Three 
Forks  and  main  (laidini-r  Kivcrs,  five  calaraits,  many  inlerislin^j 
cascaiU's  and  rapids,  and  the  j^randest  cvidcntcn  of  both  ancient  ami 
modern  terrace  Ixiildin^  springs  known  to  earth. 

In  addition  to  the  descriptions  «(f  nil  the  scienlistn  who  have  visited 
the  terrace  liuildinj;  sprin^js,  a  brief  review  of  niy  own  ohservationR 
and  ilifory  rccunling  them  may  he  foinul  on  payes  I  J-l6  of  my  report 
of  iSjy. 


IlKADLKY    Til  10    IIRAVK. 


b  ! 


M  "  Ladt  of  a  rnc^  of  warriors  who  served  their  country  well." 

Tacutenant  James  lba<llcy  was  a  youn^  hut  darinj;  Union  scout  in 
Wist  Virjjinia  duriu}^  the  tlirce  monllis'  service  of  lS()[,  and  sulise- 
•  pientiy  served  witli  disiiiution  under  his  father,  Colonel  K.  I)  Ihad- 
ley,  of  the  Sixly-Kii;hlli  Ohio  N'ulunleer  Infantry,  until  the  close  of 
the  Rehellion. 

He  then  entered  the  Seventh  Rcj^iment  United  States  Infantry, 
and  served  with  marked  ability,  courage,  and  success  upon  the 
border,  until,  in  lead'nj^r  the  charj^c  of  deneral  (libbon's  Hi},'-IIole 
fi^ht  with  Chief  Jose|)h,  he  was  tlie  lirst  while  man  kille<l,  and  was 
buried  amid  the  valley-willows  of  the  field. 


i 


••  "  And  green  o'er  tliy  jjravc  twine  the  myrlle  and  laurel." 

A  heartfelt  desire  that  his  bones  mijjht  thus  rest  beside  his  lieroic 
kindred  in  the  Christian  land  of  his  birth. 

Alas!  as  shown  in  the  stanzas  called  "The  Warrior's  Grave," 
which  were  subsecpiently  written,  these  hopes  are  not  to  be  realized, 
but,  instead,  the  rank  weeds  and  willows  still  droop  over  his  vacant 
grave,  and  his  bones,  comminfjled  with  those  of  his  foes,  doubtless 
still  bleach  upon  the  slaughter-lield  of  the  far-distant  mountain  where 
he  fell. 


^■4_ 


XOTES. 


My) 


•vv 


I'KOM   in (;  HORN'S  hlkak  mountains. 

M>  "  From  Kiu-liiirn't  lilcak  moiirtlaint  while  uliHtcnlnn  with  «ii<>w, 
'I'hw  IliKhuru'it  Lriglit  f.iuiilain*  thruu^ti  grcvtt  mcaiinwpt  lluw." 

Koinamiially  unci  ciKhamiiij^ly  true  i)f  tlu",  to  iiu*,  personally  well- 
known  valley  and  its  coiiiuIchh  tiiul>"r-frini;e«l  streaiUH  ilvHcendin^ 
from  the  Hnowy  liortleiini^  mountains,  an>)  nieanilcrin^  anii<l  (he  loiij^r, 
lulling,'  foleaiis  to  their  innlhi'  nt-c  with  the  livn,  and  of  that  in  ihu 
dim  outline  of  the  hori/on  vviih  the  mighty  Vellow^tone. 

These  lines  were  inspired  hy  a  distant  lield-ylass  view  t>f  this 
matcldess  landscape  from  a  lofty  j.eak  o(  the  Sicrra-Shushone  ran^c 
during  the  explorations  of  iSSi. 

oo  "  Till  C'uHlcr  from  Ruiclmd  h.iw  valley  an  tweet." 

Or  rather  from  the  summit  of  the  divi<le  to  the  Hi^,'  Ro  .chud  River, 
ns  distinc  t  from  the  Rosehud  conlluent  uf  the  Still- Water  at  the  present 
Crow  Indian  Agency. 

This  is  far  west  of  the  nijf-horn  River,  while  Custer  descendeil  a 
streandet  froni  the  east  to  hin  last  hattle  upon  the  eastern  or  Little 
Ui},'-horn  (now  called  Custer  River)  fork  of  the  Ili^-horn  River, 
twenty  miles  ahove  their  cuntluencc,  near  which  Fort  Custer  has  since 
been  constructed. 

•I  "  And  Farrer  and  comradct." 

Colonel  Farrer,  now  of  Mount  Clemens,  Michigan,  who  led  the 
renniant  of  the  liiji-horn  expedition  of  1S70  safely,  hrin^jing  in  the 
famous  Hig-hurn  gun  ur  niuunlain-huwitzer  to  liu/eman  late  in  that 
season.  * 


THK    GRANGER    SONG. 

**  "Oh,  my  rural  friend  and  neighbor, 
If  inclined  to  roam." 

These  stanzas  are  the  portion  in  rhyme  of  an  address  written  by 
recpiest  for  the  Granger  Clubs  of  Michigan,  when  many  persons,  to 
escajie  the  hard  times  attending  a  period  of  financial  depression,  were 
rashly  rushing  from  their  peaceful  homes  in  a  wild  crusade  for  gold 


200 


Ai)77:S. 


amidst  the  lioshlc  saVnj,'cs  of  the  liiack  Hills  and  Hiy-horn  Moun- 
tains ill  1S77. 


iVf 


R  C)  R  1 )  !•:  R    B  1^  A  \'  K. 

03  "  Not  unavenged,  for  Looking-Glass." 

This  is  the  name  of  the  famous  Nez-I'erce  chiel  and  favorite  coun- 
sellor of  Chief  Joseph,  who  was  killed  in  the  decisive  Woody  Moun- 
tain lluht. 


Ml '] 


'^  : 


in 


THE    TATTOOED    ARTIST. 

M  "  I  sing  of  an  artist,  scribe,  poet,  and  seer, 
A  luvcr  of  nature  and  scoffer  at  fear." 

This  poem  has  a  substantial  basis  of  fact,  as  may  be  attested  by  the 
hero,  if  living;,  as  well  as  by  many  eye-witnesses  of  that  enthusiastic 
but  somewhat  visionary  jjilj^rim  corresponilent's  skotchinj;  trip  from  a 
Missouri  River  steanur,  loni;  since  the  days  of  Catlin.  Although 
the  puncture,  jiaint,  and  sinj^inij;,  as  well  as  the  nude  rrantlet  running 
over  cactus,  cur,  and  breech-clout,  arc,  with  poetic  license,  somewhat 
exaggerated,  still  they  were  ample  for  our  artist,  and  no  further  ac- 
quaintance desired  with  his  Indian  friends  and  their  families  at  home. 
Indeed,  sudden,  radical,  and  lasting  changes  in  the  opinions  of 
eastern  tourists  upon  their  forming  the  ac([uaintance  of  Mr.  Lo  and 
his  family  at  home  arc  neither  rare  nor  strange,  as  there  is  much  to 
be  learned  and  regretted  upon  the  rival  sides  of  the  Indian  question, 
both  of  which,  in  these  legends  and  notes,  it  has  been  my  ]nnpose  to 

resent. 


i fully  portray. 


repr( 


It  will  be  ol)scrved  that  the  Inilian  words  used  in  this  torture-chant 
are  not  wliolly  iXa-ko-tian,  but  those  of  other  tongues  or  jargons  which 
seemed  best  calculated  for  the  rapid  reiteration  peculiar  to  all  Indian 
songs  in  their  circling  dances.  The  literal  rendition  of  these  songs 
in  English  is  extremely  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  because  of  the 
construction  of  their  sentences,  which  read  backwards,  as  the  thir- 


i 


4— 


NOTES. 


901 


tccnth   line  in   llie  first  Indian   chant.  "  Wi-ta-wa-ta    (ship)    sa-pa 
(l)lack)  wan  (one),"  or  "  sliip  black  one,"  is,  in  English,  unc,  or  "  A 

black  ship." 

For  the  symphony  of  versification  license  is  also  taken  in  the 
accent  of  syllables,  as  Wa^kan,  which  is  thus  transferred  front  the 
second  syllabic  to  the  first,  as  usually  si)oken  by  the  white  men. 


THE    MOSQUITO. 

C6  ««  Like  liornct  lioriles  .irouscd  to  fury, 
They  greet  us  to  their  home." 

rromincnt  in  the  journals  of  all  explorers,  travellers,  and  navi- 
gators since  and  including  those  of  Lewis  and  Clarke  arc  their 
execrations  upon  the  mosciuito  tormentoi:;  of  the  Missouri  and  the 
lower  Yellowstone. 

To  those  pestiferous  insects,  by  whom,  despite  a  turf-smudge,  thick 
gloves,  mosquito-net,  an<l  head-gear,  I  was  nearly  devoured  near 
Fort  Buford  while  penning  these  lines,  are  they  feelingly,  if  not 
affectionately,  dedicated. 


FRIGHTENED    HANS. 


06  "  The  shining  sands  of  coteaus  reflecting  heat  like  glass." 

This,  as  is  well  known,  is  caused  by  the  action  of  the  constant  and 
often  high  winds  of  those  regions  in  carrying  along  all  the  finer  and 
lighter  portions  of  the  soil,  thus  polishing  like  a  mirror  the  upper 
surface  of  the  pavement-like  coating  of  those  which  remained. 

"  Mirrge  of  gushing  fountains  dispel  their  frantic  fears." 

Few  earthly  views  are  as  enchantingly  beautiful  or  as  fatally  allur- 
ing as  are  the  mirage-built  phantom  groves,  lakes,  and  meandering 
streams  to  the  thirsty,  parched,  and  panting  pilgrim  upon  the  treeless 
prickly-pear  plains  or  grease-wood,  alkali  deserts  of  the  mighty  West. 


202 


A'OTES. 


Nor  arc  tlicse  phnntoiii-^,  in  nccordiinco  with  popular  belief,  always 
seen  inverted,  I)Ut  oluii  in  their  nalnnii  position,  ami  so  lifelike  and 
real  that  only  the  practised  eye  of  the  rover  will  pereeivc  that  even 
the  lakes  and  streams  are  not  ilepressed  heneatli,  hitl  slij^htly  elevated 
above,  the  real  h  'rizon,  hanging,  as  it  were,  in  the  air,  with  a  thin, 
hazy  outline  of  ihc  earth's  surface  barely  percei)til)le  beneath  them. 

07  "  Fear  of  scalding  led  to  roasting  on  the  fated  Vullowstonc." 

The  narrative  of  the  wam1erinj;s  of  Hans  and  family,  his  scaldinjf, 
fright,  and  Teiilonie  ejaculations  at  tlie  hot  sprinj;  in  the  Callatiii 
X'ailey,  as  well  as  their  wild  stampede  and  sjjcedy  massacre  by  the 
Indians  upon  the  Yellowstone,  are  all  substantially  true,  thus  only 
leaving  their  death  by  the  ancient  Indian  mode  of  roasting,'  not  well 
attesteil,  and  hence  inferenlially  chargeable  to  i)oetical  license  by  the 
author. 


AFAR    FROM    THE    CITIES    AND    HAMLETS 

OF    MEN. 

08  "Afar  from  the  cities  and  hamlets  of  men, 

I  fi)llow  the  streamlet  thnnii;!!  forest  and  glen  : 

'I'lie  elk  with  proud  antlers  enlivens  the  bowers, 

And  brilliant  and  fragrant  the  meadows  with  llowers." 

It  is  believed  that  the  accuracy  of  this  description  of  the  broad, 
grove-dotted  valley  of  Cascade  Creek  above  its  last  canon  and  falls 
will  ever  be  conceded  by  any  candid  observer, 

Ecpially  true  was  the  presence  of  the  then  docile  elk  and  deer  in 
fabulous  numbers  when  my  old  comrade,  Frederick  Bottler,  there, 
with  seven  rapid  discharges  of  his  unerring  rifle,  killed  five  huge 
antlcred  elk,  as,  under  the  title  of  "  The  Successful  Hunter,"  is  im- 
mortalized in  one  of  the  artist  Jackson's  photographic  views  of  the 
llayden  Geological  Exploration  of  1S72. 


09  "  As  thunders  from  heavens  unclouded  I  hear." 

A  feeling  of  awe  (perhaps  partially  superstitious)  difficult  to  escape, 
explain,  or  even  describe,  is  felt,  when  reaching  the  dark  pine-fringed 


AO'JKS. 


203 


summits  of  the  divide  upon  the  trail  from  the  open  meadows  of  tlie 
cascade,  upon  a  brij^lit,  cloudlc-s  suunncr's  day  one  cnurj^oii  at  once 
into  full  view  of  tiie  lialo-frinyed  clouds  of  mi^t,  and  into  lieariuj; 
of  the   heavy   i)ooms  of   the  canon-hidden  triple  falls   ami   roarin,i; 


•intr  \\\  volume  am 


rapids  of  the   Mystic   River,  the   laller  ever  varying 

cadence,  and  the  former  in  their  form  and  Inilliancy  of  colurinj^  with 

the  direction  or  velocity  of  the  balmy  mountain  Ijreeze. 


70  "  Aciown  to  the  lichens,  mistnoiirishcd  and  Krecn, 

Where  the  Hoods  as  a  deluge  Iroiu  lie.iveii  are  seen." 

As  at  other  ^reat  cascades  or  cataracts,  the  showers  of  spray  at  the 
Great  Falls  of  the  Yellowstone  nourish  a  car|)et  of  moss  antl  lichens 
of  various  forms  and  brilliant  shades  of  yellow  ami  <,neen  colorinj,', 
which  form  a  dense  but  slightly  adherent,  and  to  the  footsteps 
treacherous  covering  to  the  dri[)ping  rocks  arouml  ihem. 
'  This  I  found  dangerously  evident  uinn  llie  lower  portion  and 
nearly  vertical  and  crumbling  brilliantly  red-  and  yellow-tinted  walls 
of  the  Grand  Canon  of  the  \  ellow.^lone,  upon  my  descent  thereof 
alone  in  1875. 

This  was  from  where  our  rustic  bridge  now  spans  Spring  Creek, 
adown  or  near  its  jagged  waterway  to  the  river,  a  portion  of  which, 
by  the  subsecpient  dislodgment  of  a  huge  mass  of  the  wall-rock  at 
the  Red  rinnacles,  is  now  impassable. 

The  present  route  is  along  a  rude  pathway  which  I  recently  made 
from  just  above  these  pin)iacles,  directly  across  the  face  of  the  sliding 
shales,  to  a  jutting  point  of  crumbling  rocks  about  live  hundred  feet 
ilirectly  below  our  now  pole-railed  Point  Lookout,  and  thence  by 
a  rough,  very  steep,  but  direct  descent  of  five  hundred  feet  to  the 
f«*ming  river. 

In  small  parties  only  should  persons  attemj)!  this  descent,  as  to  the 
usual  danger  of  a  misstep  and  headlong  descent  to  horrid  death  is 
the  still  greater  one  from  dislodged  masses  or  fragments  of  the  crum- 
bling wall-rock,  which  in  velocity  nearly  and  in   danger  fully  erpial 


ojectiles  from  a  park  of  artillery.    This  is  now  the  nearest  jioinl  of 
descent  or  of  aiiijroach  to  the  foot  of  the  Great  Falls  upon  the  north- 


pr 


west  side;  but  by  rafting,  or,  in  very  low  water,  fording  the  river 
something  less  than  a  mile  above  the  Upper  l''alls,  or  at  them  if  the 

^Iructed,  tmnisls  will   be  able  to  reach   the 


projected   bridge  be   con 
grove-cap[)ed  clill  overl 


t)oKuu 


the  Great  Falls.     Thence,  by  piopct 


204 


NO  TKS. 


eriort  and  (.'luc  from  cniiubliiij,'  mtks  and  slii>pery  licht-ns,  jiersnns 
may  safely  dcscL-ml  to  tin-  river  and  as  near  to  the  foot  of  the  Great 
Falls  as  the  niatclile^'  rehound  of  the  sheet  of  water  from  its  nearly 
four  hundred  feet  of  verlieal  descent  will  allow,  and  where  it  is 
believed  the  poet's  description  of  lichens,  mi^lclouds,  and  halos,  as 
well  as  of  "  the  Hoods  as  a  deluge  from  heaven,"  will  be  verilieil  and 
appreciated. 

71  "  Henceforth  be  my  niiisic  the  cataract's  roar." 

At  the  risk  of  seeming  egotism,  I  would  briclly  note  that  these 
words  diHer  more  in  form  than  in  -.entiment  from  those  to  be  found 
in  my  printed  "  Journals  of  Rambles  in  the  Far  West"  at  the  time  of 
my  first  visit  to  these  falls. 

Nor  have  my  subsciiuent  encampments  in  the  Glen  of  the  Cascade, 
while  making  the  bridge  and  other  improvements  above  the  Grotto 
Pool  and  Crystal  and  other  falls,  or  at  my  other  secluded  haunts  amid 
their  commingled  spray  and  thunders  during  Indian  raids,  lessened 
])ut  rather  increased  my  altacliment  for  this  rainbow-spanned  refuge 
from  the  gilded  haunts  of  fashion  and  pleasure,  and  the  crafty  wiles 
of  the  politician,  the  speculator,  or  the  money-lender,  in  these  days 
when  proffered  friendship  is  too  oft  a  lure,  and  real  friendship  a 
cherished  vision  of  the  ])ast, — in  these  enlightened  but  degenerate 
days,  when  far  too  often  robbery  and  betrayal  of  public  trusts  are 
viewed  and  punished  in  inverse  ratio  to  the  magnitude  of  the  crime 
and  the  numbers  and  [losiiion  of  the  shares  of  the  spcjils,  and  man  is 
prized  less  for  his  birthright  as  such,  or  for  his  principles  and  practices 
of  true  manhood,  than  for  the  wealth  or  the  inlliience  which  by  any 
means,  ever  so  reprehensible,  he  may  have  accpiired. 

Hence  my  changeless  attachment  to  these  unpolluted  '■  encs  of  the 
grandest  handiwork  of  nature's  God  as  a  refuge  alike  in  life,  and  \\\ 
death  a  toml),  earnestly  trusting  that  if  in  this  wild  region  it  be  mine 
to  fall,  my  final  resting-place  may  be  beneath  the  moaning  pines  and 
balsams  of  my  chosen  camping  grove  whenever  able  to  cross  the 
river  to  reach  it  upon  the  southern  cliffs,  amid  the  spray,  overlooking 
the  Great  Falls,  that  my  unfettered  spirit  in  its  earthly  visitations 
may  be  greeted  by  the  scenes  and  sounds  so  appreciated  and  enjoyed 
while  tenanting  its  transient  refuge  of  clay. 


u 


A'O'J/'IS. 


205 


on,   IS    TIlKRi:    IN    THIS   WORLD    SO    DRKAR? 

'-  "  III  crumlilinj;  home  of  friends  af.ir." 

'riic  ruins  of  the  faiuinis  IJaionut  cabin,  ii])!in  llic  liigli,  huge  granite 
lH)uIiler-slrc\vn  l)asaltic  point  above  the  confluence  of  ilie  two  foiUs 
of  llic  Yellowstone  River. 

It  occupied  the  site  of  one  previously  Inirned  hy  the  Indians,  which 
(aside  from  the  loop-hole,  earth-roofed  block  house  of  unknown  build- 
ers, tlu-  ruins  of  which  are  referred  to  on  jia^e  7  of  my  official  repfirt 
of  1S7S)  was  the  fust  residence  known  to  have  ever  been  constructed 
l)y  while  men  within  the  subseipiently  <lcdicated  ^'ellowstone  National 
Park,  and  at  few  jjlaccs,  oilier  than  the  regular  battle-fields  in  all  llu-se 
regions,  has  there  occurred  iiiore  varied  or  thrilling  scenes  than  within 
or  around  it. 


'3  "  Aljove  the  ceaseless  dash  aiul  roar. 


Wh 


ere  nioiiiitain  torreius  t;reet. 

The  forks  of  the  Yellowstone  River,  furty  miles  liclow  tlie  lake  and 
twenty  below  the  Great  Falls,  upon  its  main  fork,  and  where,  oidy  from 
these  falls  to  the  confluence  of  the  Gardiner  River,  a  tli,->taiice  of  fifty 
miles  in  the  Grand  Canon  of  the  Yellowstone,  is  there  a  wagon-route 
of  approach  to  the  stream. 

Neither  of  these  dashing  mountain  torrents  are  there  ever  fro;^en 
over;  safely  fordable,  or  even  approachable,  where  the  first,  and  fur 
ten  years  the  only,  bridge  ever  crossid   any  portion  of  the   niighly 


Yellowstone  River,  was  built  over  the   main 


for]< 


<,  ju>l   above  liieir 


conduence,  by  Jack  Baronet  and  other  Clarke's  Fork  miners  in  1S71. 

This  poem  was  inspired  and  partly  written  by  the  camp-lucM  when 
I  was  alone  at  this  cabin  in  Augu^t,  1877. 

1  then  found  it  only  a  haunt  of  howling  beasts  and  screaming 
birds  of  prey,  gathered  upon  the  decaying  bones  and  decomposing 
fragments  of  the  fesh  and  hides  of  game  left  by  Charley  ReynoUls 
and  other  friends,  whose  companionship  I  had  lliere  enjoyed  in  1S75, 
and  from  a  soul-harrtnving  view  of  whose  bleaching  bones  upon  the 
Custer  sltiughter-field  1  had  just  returnetl. 

Sad  as  were  my  feelings  then,  a  forecast  of  the  events  soon  tc 
follow  could  have  only  darkeneil  tlu'  shade. 

\Vilhin  one  week  from  that  lime  I  pa.-..ied  that  bridge,  clinging  to 

iS 


-»- 


I  ,1 


206 


AOJKS. 


my  Iiorsc,  faint  fidin  the  loss  (if  lilmiil  fmni  an  acciilontal  wdiind  rc- 
ti'ivcd  at  'i'owcT  Tails,  and  within  Dnt-  month  tht-roaftcr  the  trail 
which  1  tht'ii  lollowt'd  to  ihc  falls  of  the  (iardiiur  was  dusty  with  the 
trainp  of  a  portion  of  Chief  Joseph's  hostile  Ne/I'erces  and  their 
taptnred  horses,  aiiil  cncrinisoned  with  the  j^ore  of  their  slauj^hlered 
owners  ;  the  bridge  was  partly  burned  by  lhen»  ii\  their  matchless 
retreat,  and  the  cabin  was  tlisniantled  for  material  for  its  repair  by 
(leneral  Howard,  in  his  lony,  patient,  and  then  misunderslood  and 
misrepresented  pursuit. 


TO    THE    TIE    AT    HOME. 


1 1 
I  ■ 

I-' 


\l 


)    •: 


\       I 


M  Far  away  on  llic  clifTs  of  this  wiKl  roaring  river." 

These  stanzas,  which  doubtless  evince  more  pathos  than  jxietry, 
may  be  less  esteemed  by  the  public  than  the  poet,  from  the  circum- 
stances under  wdiich  they  were  written. 

As  noted  in  my  journal,  and  published  in  my  report  of  1877,  by 
the  sudden  sunderin<T  of  a  stirrup-strap  I  was  precipitated  from  a. 
bucking  horse  over  a  ledj^e  of  rocks,  so  seriously  injurinj^  my  neck 
and  spine  as  to  compel  me  to  return  to  the  head  of  the  falls  of  the 
mitldle  fork  of  the  East  Cardiner,  where  I  fainted  from  the  loss  of 
blood  and  over-exertion. 

After  recovering  sufficiently  to  crawl  to  the  brink  and  swal.ow  a 
cupful  of  the  delicious  water,  by  painful  effort  I  was  enal'led  to  make 
a  rude  couch  of  my  blanket  and  some  balsam  boughs  beneath  the 
trees  at  the  eastern  end  of  where  the  bridge  ymw  spans  the  (juivering 
brink  of  the  falls. 

There,  while  by  weakness  and  the  music  of  ihe  falling  waters  lulled 
into  semi-unconsciousness,  the  prelude  and  much  of  the  ])oem  was 
pencilled  in  my  memorandum-book,  hopeful  that  if,  as  then  seemed 
jirobable,  I  slu)uld  there  perish  alone,  my  remains  might  perchance 
be  found  and  these  lines  reach  her  for  whom  they  were  intended. 


NO  TF.S. 


207 


THE    WARRIOR'S    GRAVE. 

'*  "  A  mouhrriiig  plate  and  headboard." 

This  is  all  that  was  found  upon  (lil)l)ous's  and  Chief  Joseph's  battle- 
field  of  the  151^,'  Hole  Pass,  which  I  could  so  fully  identify  as  pertain- 
\w^  to  the  fated  "  Dradley  the  lirave"  as  to  feel  justilieil  in  conveyiuj^ 
to  his  niourninj;  fiiends. 

This  visit  was  made  Ihrouj^h  deep  snows  from  the  fitter  Ror)t 
Valley,  some  months  after  the  publication  of  my  tribute  to  his 
memory,  and,  alas!  the  bones  of  that  friend  of  cither  days  and 
scenes  had  been  dragi;ed  from  their  shallow  restin<;- place  amid  the 
willows,  near  where  he  fell,  by  ravenous  beasts  who  still  haunted  the 
field. 

At  the  time  of  my  visit  they  ni<^htly  retramped  the  snow,  and,  in 
search  for  food,  overturned  the  remnants  of  garments,  blankets,  and 
horse  hides,  and  in  hideous  revels  more  fully  commingled  the  bleach- 
ing bones  of  fallen  friend  and  foe. 


BLAZE    13RIGIITLV,    O   CAMP-FIRE! 

W  "  Earth's  treasures  all  vanished,  no  heaven  to  gain." 

The  immediate  incentive  for  penning  these  stanzas  was  the  jocular 
remark  of  a  comrade  of  its  being  fortunate  for  him  that,  when  he 
had  once,  within  the  space  of  a  few  months,  squandered  a  fortunate 
stake,  or  placer  find,  of  seventy-five  Ihousuid  dollars,  that  it  was  not 
a  hundred  thousand,  or  he  could  not  have  survived  the  attendant 
dissipation. 

This,  and  similar  admissions  of  other  comrades  beside  our  cedar- 
sheltered  camp-fires  during  a  terrific  mountain  snow-storm,  recalled 
painfully  recollections  of  the  needless  failure  and  hopeless  fall  of 
kind,  and  some  of  them  morally-reared  an<l  well-educated  comrades 
gone,  still  destitute  of  graves,  or  filling  only  dishonored  ones,  all 
along  my  checkered  pathway  of  wandering  upon  the  border. 

Hence  these  lines  of  pensive,  mournful  reflection  are  published, 


r 


I  f 


■II 


208 


A'07/:S. 


hopeful  thai  they  may  beneficially  retail  in  the  really  nohle  licait  of 
some  rouj;h-ela(l  nioimtaiueer  the  scenes  of  his  iniioci  nt  chiMhuod 
nnd  j;uileless  yoiitli,  the  instructions  of  iju'  week-day  and  the  lessons 
of  the  Salibath-school,  the  tender  admonitions  and  partinjj  jirayers 
of  lovini;  kindled  now  iieacefully  siuiuheiin^f  liencath  the  willows  in 
the  eonsetraled  ceinetery  of  some  distant  L'liiisliaii  land. 


UNION    OF    THE    VALLEYS. 

TT  ••  For  the  evcr-fickle  river  veered  away  to  meet  Us  iii.itc." 

A  i)ioverl)ial  characteristic  of  the  Missouri  River  is  the  ceaseless 
shiftinj^f  of  its  muddy  channel,  which,  by  occurrin};  at  the  point  of  its 
confluence  with  the  Yellowstone,  effected  the  channel  at  the  fiir- 
tiadeis'  old  Fort  Union  above  i'.,  '.Inis  conlribuliii}^  to  its  abandonment 
and  the  subseipient  construction  of  Foit  lluford  below  the  conlhieiice. 

"8  "And  the  fort,  its  cache  and  lodges,  were  abandoned  to  their  fate." 

The  bank  of  the  Missouri  River  above  Fort  Union  beinj;  very  dry 
nnd  easily  excavated,  has  been  from  time  immemorial  a  favorite 
caclieing  site;  and  having  assisted  in  making  several  there  and  many 
elsewhere,  I  will  briefly  tlescribe  the  operation.  'IMiis  originally 
French  word  cache  (usually  pronounced  ca>li),  or  hidins^-piace,  has 
long  been  the  universal  and  appro[>riate  name  for  a  deposit  of  corn, 
furs,  blankets,  or  in  fact  anything  a  party  desires  to  bury  safely  for 
another  occasion,  usually  for  concealment,  but  sometimes  only  for 
safety  frcmi  the  animals  and  elements.  In  horizontal  layers  of  soft  sand- 
stone, like  that  near  Fort  Union,  a  place  is  selected  where  there  is  a 
foot  or  so  of  loose  sand-covering,  which  is  removed,  and  a  circular 
hole  large  enough  to  admit  a  man  is  after  a  foot  or  so  gradually  en- 
larged to  the  desired  size,  shaped  when  completed  much  like  a  very 
low  broad  earthen  jug.  When  the  lloor  and  sides  are  covered  with 
a  layer  of  dry  brush  or  bulrush  mats,  or  both,  it  is  tilled  with  the 
utmost  care,  that  it  may  not  settle  and  betray  the  site.  The  top  is 
then  crammed  with  hides,  the  mouth  well  filled  with  the  removed 
rocks,  the  sand  replaced,  and  every  vestige  of  goods,  rocks,  etc., 
carefully  removed  in  sacks  or  skins,  and  thrown,  often  several  miles 


A'orr.s. 


209 


away,  into  a  sircnm  or  lake.  Wlicn  tlnis  rnniplctod,  a  ramp  fire  over 
or  nt-ar  llic  r.soutli,  with  llic  usual  tiaiii|>iii^  ol  imn  ami  animals,  ami 
n  few  hours  of  sanddrifliiig,  so  fully  oMitcrato  all  Iracc  that  actual 
knowlcdjjo  or  diiiKinj;  alone  will  (lisclose  it.  Wluii  iho  site  is  a  pure 
saml-hank,  the  carhi-  luiisl  w  iclcii  li'ss  ami  he  hetifr  suppnrtrd  ami 
])acked  ;  and  if  in  a  ^tovc,  a  dry  l>ii>li  or  a  cedar  or  other  hardy  shruh, 
not  soon  willin^f  or  chnnj.,'in{;  color,  even  if  dyiii;,',  is  most  caiefully 
cut  around  and  lifted,  with  all  the  earth  p(js«.il)le  attached,  ui)on  a 
skin  or  hlankef,  ami,  when  conipleted,  replaced ;  and  so  well  is  all 
concealed  in  these  vast  rej,'ions,  that  1  have  little  douht  fewer  cadies 
are  actually  found  and  robbed  than  are  lost  by  the  sudden  removal  or 
death  of  the  owners. 

The  ruins  of  (ild  Fort  Union  are  still  plainly  traceable  between  the 
present  earth-lod^e  villa^'e  of  the  mon<;rel  Indians  and  the  lony  line 
of  mainly  abandonetl  caches  along  the  sandy  bluffs  above  it. 

T»  "  Oh,  for  bard  to  chant  their  requiem  !    Oh,  for  storied  pen  to  save." 

This  is  the  lan^uaj^e  of  a  heartfelt  desire,  which  above  all  else  has 
cheered  my  untutored  pen  in  tracing  as  well  as  I  am  able  a  few  of  the 
countless  well-known  incidents  and  legends  of  the  border,  hopeful 
that  the  basis  and  language  of  fact  may  somewhat  atone  for  the  want 
of  plot  and  finish  found  in  the  polished  works  of  fiction. 


on,  FOR  BARD  TO  TRULY  TREASURE. 


80  "  Oh,  for  b;ir(l  to  truly  treasure 

Uorder  scenes  of  days  agone  1" 

To  a  person  reared  upon  the  border  and  familiar  with  the  thrilling 
scenes  and  trying  reverses  of  a  life  among  the  animals  and  aborigines 
of  the  plains,  the  deserts,  and  the  mountains  of  what  was  then  truly 
the  pathless  unknown  West,  tlie  sincere  but  erroneous  eastern  senti- 
mentalism  regarding  the  Indian  upon  one  hand,  and  the  less  humane 
but  more  practical  opinions  of  the  western  pioneer  upon  the  other, 
oiTer  food  for  mature  reflection,  a  broad  field  for  the  gleaning  of 
facts,  and  ample  scope  for  marshalling  and  reconling  theni  in  au- 
thentic history  by  an  abler  pen  than  mine. 
0  18* 


• 


310 


A'o'//:s. 


Hut  timo  Is  iiivahi;»l)Io ;  the  fiat  of  fate  has  jjonc  fi)itli  that  the  on- 
ward march  of  the  race  of  rcsiHtlcts  ilotiny  is  to  luouht  or  annihilate 
all  nlun^;  il9  pathway;  that  the  wild  ntan  and  the  wihl  hoast  shall 
alike  hci'onie  i  ivili/.cd  or  don»e>tic.itcd  aiiiJ  ui<'fiii  in  4  iir.ictiral  aye 
of  |)io^'icks  i(  liny  will,  and  Ic  rxtfiniiiiatcd  if  llicy  will  not. 

Ilciu'c  the  constant  evidence  lli.it  (he  hlood  eurdlinij  wai-wh()<)|), 
the  defiant  hatile  r.illy,  the  lilloiiny,  dyin^  scream,  and,  alas!  the 
Hitkt'iiiii^  sc.ilp-dance  of  today  are  uplaced  by  the  peaceful  nnihic 
of  the  woodsman's  axe  or  the  l»lack-.milirs  for>;e  and  factory  whittle, 
the  lowinj^  (if  domestic  Hocks  and  herds,  or  the  gleaner's  carol  aromiil 
the  peacelul  lioinos  and  crowded  school  rooms  of  to  morrow. 

The  spouting;  heari\  hiond  and  festerimj  lle-«h,  alas  1  of  fallen  ones 
upon  the  ijory  liclds  of  death  of  llje  season  p.ist  fertilize  the  growing 
l)l,inl  upon  the  harvest-fields  of  j^laddeninj  ^;rain  of  that  to  come,  for 
the  use  of  a  peojtle  who  cease  from  their  laliors,  and  at  the  cheerinj; 
peals  of  (he  Sahhath  hell  con^Tc^jatc  in  their  stecplcil  churches,  to 
return  thaid<s  for  the  countless  blcssinys  of  carlli  and  the  priceless 
promises  of  Heaven. 

And  hence,  sternly  hut  uiireyrclfully,  the  polisheil  plou<;hshare  of 
human  progress  sh.Ul  he  diivcn  rou^h-slu)d  and  relentless  alike  over 
the  deserted  village-sites  and  decaying  hones  of  a  race  hesitating  to 
cnli-.t  under  its  lloalintj  banner  and  keep  step  to  its  nuirchmg  music. 

The  t^cncralion  oi  the  pnlh-llndin^',  death-dariiuj  planters  of  civil- 
ization ami  their  paint-  and  pUiino-liedecked  warrior  opponents  is 
rajiidly  j^litling  away;  and  if  this  duty  of  j^jatherin;^  and  truthfully 
recording  incidents  of  the  border  be  neglected  until  the  actors  are 
fled,  ere  long  they  will  be  known  t)nly  in  the  unreal  sensation-tales 
of  dime  novels  or  yellow-covered  literature,  or  else  merged  in  the 
wild  legends  of  mingled  fact  and  fiction,  of  truth  and  romance,  to 
swell  the  volumes  of  unreliable  future  hisl(My,  which  might  have  been 
authentic. 


RUSTIC    BRIDGE    AND    CRYSTAL    FALLS. 

81  "  Will  these  feet  iIkiI  trip  so  lightly 
O'er  this  structure  rude  but  strong." 

These  stanz.is  were  pencilled,  read,  and  dedicated    September  4, 
1880,  to  the  first  party  of  tourists  who  crossed  the  then  unfinished 


Nor/:s. 


ail 


hiidnc  over  the  riiotto  Fool  ami  Ci;'>riil  Falli,  .1  ^kt•ll  li  of  whiih  m.iy 
be  fouixl  oil  |U(;c  21  of  my  report  of  iSSi,  anil  also  witli  lliis  poem. 

NiimcH  of  the  imtsoiih  compilsiinj  llie  party:  Mr*.  (I,  \V.  Monroe, 
Mrs.  W.  J.  Hi'.\l,  Mis^  M;iini».'  Kvans,  Mi«.-i  M.nuic  l,.in^tl>oiiii'.  Mis4 
I'lu.lciHo  niutli.iiil,  Mix.  Niltii;  !\;iy,  Mr.  Jack  Uaronct,  Mr.  tlcoryo 
Miles  .Mr.  Wallir  lJmlii|'.h,  Mr.  havid  UoIrtIs. 

Of  these  peisoiis  Jark  lUiroiiel  was  the  jjuiile;  (ieor|.;c  Mile--,  of 
Miles  City,  upon  the  Lower  Yellowstone,  is  a  nephew  of  the  yallanl 
fil^'htiii^'  i;eneral  N.  I).  MiU-.,  m\>\  the  others  were  residents  of  Ho/x'- 
mau,  Montan.i  'I'eiritory,  or  their  fricniU. 


i[Ic:fi  'lowKR.s  'riiK  crack; y  summit. 

*•  "And  boitviTS  l)iiilil  tln:ir  wick-c-iips  wluri;  w.irm  llic  waters  How." 

As  may  be  found  in  the  ( Ilossary,  wiclanips  is  the  S!io-shone  Indian 
name  for  the  conical  hollow  brush-heap  often  used  by  them  for  ;i 
summer  dwellinj^,  and  by  the  pijjmy  l*i-utes  and  Diiiyer  Indians  of 
the  Humboldt  and  other  jjreasewood  alkali  deserts  at  any  season  of 
the  year  where  no  cave  in  the  rocks  or  lava  beds  are  convenient,  and 
they  are  not  too  lazy  or  too  busy  in  securing  a  fooil  supi)ly  of  berries, 
crickets,  and  li/ards  to  build  one. 

These  arc  all  of  f)ne  story,  while  those  of  the  beaver  are  of  tw(>» 
one  of  which  is  partially  and  the  other  wholly  above  wate;,  and, 
saving  the  size,  is  in  all  respects  the  better  and  more  permanent 
structure,  and  the  occupants  far  nrore  ingenious,  inlv.strious,  and 
proviilent. 

The  favorite  haunts  of  these  animals  arc  the  tepid  dam-obstructed 
outlets  of  many  of  the  hot-sprin.Lj  basins,  which  are  seldom  finzen 
over  so  as  to  obstruct  their  use  as  canals  for  the  floating  of  their  sup- 
plies of  willows  or  other  wood,  u^ion  which  or  the  bark  of  it  they 
mainly  subsist. 

83  "  Giyaniic  wrecks  of  forests,  .-ill  fossilized  to  stone  " 

In  the  face  of  the  usually  nearly  vertical  cliffs,  more  than  two 
thousand  feet  high,  fronting  the  Soda-lJutte  and  the  east  fork  of  the 
Yellowbtone  River,  near  their  conlluence,  may  be  seen  as  plainly  as 


213 


A0  7/:S. 


in  Nn^rclU'f  coimllrRs  trunk*  of  tfn*  piinirva!  forrsf-trcos,  still  eroct 
ni  llioy  picw.or  pio'^lr.ifr  n«  tliry  win' i  iii^IhmI,  hinicil,  aiil  fii.>»ili/f(i 
in  thf  suLl•t's^^iv^•  Iff  itltfin;itin(;  ilcpnsils  of  Miliincr^oncc  nnd  t'noruioiiii 
ovvrflitw  of  oo/y  vok'iinic  niiul  nnd  Hlinu*.  'I'lir  lon^  lioriAnntal  \\ue% 
of  <U'innri'ation  Itctwix-n  the  Viiriout  deposits  nrc  clear  nnd  dwtimt, 
and  sonic  of  tiu-ni  %n  lliin  tli.tt  the  silisilicd  trccn  (which  were  mainly 
(livti>f  from  those  now  jjinwrnp  in  the  I'.iik,  and  in  '•i/i'  fairly  li vai- 
ling; lliukc  uf  the  I'acittc  cu.i^tj  mti<>t  have  extended  lhioii{;li  and  at)uvc 
them. 

Startling  as  ii  this  theory  of  the  successive  nitcrnations  of  sulnncr- 
gcnce,  oo/y  overllnw,  forest  (growths  vertically,  tlu-  roots  of  one  ahovp 
or  in  place  of  the  tops  of  that  heneath  it,  and  seemingly  incredible 
thf  liypothcsiN,  yet  it  devolves  upun  fiiluri*  jjt'oloj;iial  research  to  dis- 
prove surface  indications  and  estahlisli  a  hcllrr  one, 

>rostritte,  arc  in  sections 


iuy 


I' 


containing  caskets  lined  with  heautifiil  amethyst  and  <tther  crystals, 
the  fossil-forests  alone,  of  the  countless  niarvcU  of  the  Womler-Land, 
are  to  the  scientist  nnd  the  nation  worth  the  cost  of  the  detlicalion, 
protection,  and  opening  routes  of  access  to  all  of  them. 


M  "  All  n.Ttnrc  '*ecni>  in  contrast,  in  beauty,  size,  or  awe,— 
Ci'iittiJM,  f^mw/fi,  niiii  ntiii,  tlic  universal  law!" 

Literally  and  proverbially  true  of  nearly  every  portion,  fcatine,  and 
marvel  of  the  people's  Wonder-Land. 


LONELY    GLEN. 


K>  "  "lis  lion's  scrc.nm  resounding." 

The  midnight  screams  of  a  cougar,  or  niountaindion,  echoing  from 
the  clilTs  to  my  lonely  camp-fno  in  the  glen  just  above  the  CIreat  Falls 
of  the  Yellowstone,  where  one  member  of  a  parly  of  tourists  was 
killed,  others  wounded,  ind  all  of  their  animals  and  outfit  captured 
by  the  hostile  Ncz-1'crces  in  1877. 


NOTFS. 


»«3 


RKVNor.DS'S    hlUCiE. 

••  "  My  fiu'il*  Wi'rc  riiiiiH  "f  t Tpce  .uul  iniii, 

'Mill  war-ri)l)ci«  uii'l  Itt.iiikclH  all  ^ory  uiul  rent," 

Literally  true,  at  ilic  cniiip  fire  «>f  myself  nml  Il.inmct,  upon  ilio 
*ite  i)f  llic  hastily  nliaii'loiifil  Indian  villa^jc  just  liclow  Kcnu'H  valley 
lii-KI. 

KiiMn  this,  ns  rcfi-ircd  to  in  tho  note  to  (Jallant  (IjaiK-y  UcynuhU, 
wc  esfa[ic<l  in  the  twili^^hl  tu  ;\  little  j^iovc  of  c<itt()n\v<i>n|,  jn  a  iloep 
wash-t»ul  of  the  plains,  live  or  six  niilen  towards  the  Ih^'-horn,  and 
then  cooUctl  and  ate  n  slij;hl  supper  ncaily  iimlei  ihr  tree-,  tin  n  sup. 
portinj;  the  remains  of  several  hlankelrohcil  braves,  who  were  douht^ 
less  Uillid  or  mortally  woinideil  in  the  Custer  «)r  Reno  fij^hts. 

Ilerte  w."  procee<led  oautiuu^ly  seme  miles  faither  Inwards  tho 
Ili^;-h<).n.  ".iiil  bivoiiarUed  nniil  morning',  me  inwliile  seciiiinj;  such 
sliep  as  we  could  obtain,  each  with  a  hand  ImMin^'  one  end  of  the 
lariat  of  his  j»ra/inj;  horse,  with  the  stars  for  his  cumpy,  hlanket- 
covered  cactu-;  for  his  couch,  and  saddle  for  his  pillow. 

l'"or  a  mountaineer  1  am  not  deemed  snpersiiiious;  hut  from  tho 
proximity  of  the  hones  of  n>y  comrade  Charley  of  n.  few  months  pie« 
ceding',  then  attached  to  the  canlle  of  my  Spani->h  saddle,  ihe  fervid 
imagination  of  nerves  overstrained  amid  the  recent  harrowinjj  scenes, 
or  merely  the  IlicUeiing  phantoms  of  a  poet's  vision,  the  incidents  of 
the  dirt;e  were  conjnretl,  and  at  the  dawn  the  last  verse  was  hastily 
written,  the  tirst  being  subseriuenlly  pretixed. 


•7IN    CyMJIN,    CAMT,    OR    COUNCIL. 

The  pnem  dedicated  to  C.cneral  II.  D.  Wa-hlunii  with  the  accom- 
jianylnj,'  notes  explains  our  nearly  life-long  ac(|uaintani.:c  and  friend- 
ship, and  hence  desire  that  my  explorations  in  those  regions  should 
be  commemorated  by  tlu'  second  jieak  of  Mount  Wa-hburn,  rather 
than  the  first  of  the  Ciallatin  range,  which  I  explored  in  1S75. 

During  October,  1S7S,  accompanied  by  the  darin;,'  mountaineers 
Adam  Miller  and  Cleorge  Rowland,  by  dangerous  clilV-clintbing  in  the 


214 


NO  vv:s. 


snow  along  the  teirihly-brolscn  luiiik  of  llic  Grnnd  Canon,  I  turned 
tlio  noitlu'inmosl  and  far  tlio  woisl  spur  of  Mount  Waslihuru,  and 
tamped  in  a  dump  of  pines  and  balsams,  upon  one  of  the  larj;er  trees 
of  which  oin-  record  may  still  he  found. 

This  is  one-fourth  of  a  mile  easterly  and  several  huiidrod  feet 
below  where  our  Grand  Canon  trail  now  crosses  the  spur  in  Rowland's 
Pass,  which  alone  I  discovered,  explored,  and  named  the  same  even- 
ing, while  Miller  shot  an  elk  and  Rowland  used  a  portion  of  the  flesh 
in  the  preparation  o*"  .nir  welccmic  evening's  repast. 

IJeside  this  camp-lire  amid  th'-  snow,  exhilarated  by  the  first  suc- 
cessful en\)rt  of  scaling  this  spur  of  Mount  Washburn  by  white  men 
of  which  I  have  any  knowledge,  and  ju.tly  confident  that  we  had 
found  a  new  and  valuable  route  between  the  snowy  mountain-crest 
and  the  yawning  canon-brink,  these  few  lines  of,  as  I  then  believed, 
correct  dedication  of  these  towering  peaks  were  written. 

The  subsequent  discovery  that  Prof.  F.  V.  Ilayden  had  meanwhile 
very  proj)erly  commemorated  the  visit,  in  1S74,  of  the  famous  Scottish 
traveller  and  writer,  the  Earl  Dun-Raven,  and  transferred  my  name 
from  that  now  called  Hell's  Peak,  of  the  Gallatin  range,  to  the  one 
which  still  retains  it  towards  the  C  )I)lin-Land,  1  cheerfully  acqui- 
esced; but  the  pith  of  the  poem  vanished,  and  is  published  only  in 
connection  with  historical  facts  deemed  more  vahiable. 


THE    ARTIST    STANLEY. 


88  "  But  '  Uncas'  and  '  War-path'  and  '  Signal'  shall  stay." 

These  are  the  nai.ies  of  some  of  the  few  paintings,  now  chromes, 
which  were  saved  from  the  general  destruction  of  the  artist  Stanley's 
famous  gallery  of  Indian  paintings  by  ;  n  accidental  conflagraticm  in 
a  room  of  the  Smithsonian  Instituticm  in  Washington,  where  they  had 
been  placed  for  safety,  exhibition,  and  sale  during  the  war  of  the 
Rebellion. 


JV07'/-:s. 


21 


IJ  U  R  T  A  T.    T  E  E  I'  E  E. 

89  "The  Ab-sa-r:i-k;i  chieftain  most  bravely  fighting  fell." 

The  flimous  Loiig-IIoisc,  chief  of  the  Ahsaraka,  or  Crow,  nation  of 
Indians,  who  fell  and  was  entombed  in  a  nia^nilieenl  v-"-  •  cpee,  as 
l)orlrayed  in  the  poem,  whicli  was  written  upon  n)y  visit  to  his  hiiria 
teepee  and  of  the  place  of  conllict  soon  after  his  death  in  1875. 


BOLD  TRAPPER  OF  THE  CAMP-FIRE. 

W  "  Bold  trapper  of  the  camp-fire." 

Jones  Wliitncy,  a  yoiithfid  trapper  comrade  alonij  the  great  lakes 
and  in  tlie  wilds  of  Nc-rthwestern  Ohio. 

lie  there  married,  and  soon  after  removed  with  hi-,  family  to  the 
Walla-Walla  Valley  in  Oregon.  There,  hy  the  assistance  of  a  faithful 
Indian  friend,  he  escajied  one  of  the  border  massacres,  and  in  a  long 
and  pt  ilous  journey,  with  the  snowy  crest  of  Mount  IIi)od  as  a  guide 
by  day,  and  the  stars  by  night,  ultimately  reached  the  Dalles  of  the 
Columbia  in  safety,  where  he  settled,  prospered,  and,  after  rejiaying 
in  the  East  my  visit  of  1 870,  died,  a  wealthy  and  esteemed  Christian 
citizen. 

The  ties  of  early  association  in  jointly  sharing  the  perils  of  border- 
life  by  day  and  the  weary  watch  by  night  are  dearer  and  as  enduring 
as  those  blood  akin;  nor  will  any  of  the  bent,  bald,  or  grizzled  re.n- 
nant  of  the  early  path-fmders  fail  to  mulerstand,  and  iierchance  ap- 
preciate, this  border  mode  of  expressing  regret  for  comrades  gone, 
or  the  blending  of  trails  and  camj)  fires  in  some  mountain  glen  or 
sheltered  park  of  that  hoped-for  better  land. 


THE    W  A  R  R  I  O  R  '  S    D  I  R  G  E. 

01  "  Gone,  brave  brother,  gone  from  the  suffering  and  strife." 

I'revet  Colonel  Thomas  B.  Weir,  captain  of  the  Seventh  Regiment 
of  United  States  Cavalry,  died  suddenly  of  congestion  of  the  brain 


216 


NO/'ES. 


It  his  recruiting,'  station  in  Now  York  City  soon  after  his  return  from 
♦  »e  (lisahlrous  canipaigu  of  the  l.itllc  JJig-horn  in  1S7O. 


CYPRESS    SHADOWS. 


i 


02  "  Where  tlic  long  reeds  quiver,  where  the  pines  make  moan." 

This  flllinj^  retjuiein  l)encalh  the  plaintive  moan  of  the  waving 
pine-tops  at  llie  silent  burial,  without  reli^Mous  ceremony,  or  a  burial- 
casket  of  an  cinit^ranl's  cliiM  beside  a  malarial  bayou  in  the  sterile 
pine-kuol)s  of  Northeastern  Minnesota,  came  like  electric  Hash  along 
nearly  forty  years  of  fading  reminiscences  of  kindred  scenes  in  the 
Calumet  Desert  at  the  head  of  Lake  Michigan.  Such  scenes  are, 
alas!  ever  too  frequent  among  the  poor  but  worthy  pioneers  of  civil- 
ization, who  brave  the  diseases  and  the  dangers  of  the  bonier  hopeful 
of  a  (juiet  home  in  their  t)Id  age  and  of  benefi.  ng  the  children. 


I'VE    TRAILED    THE    PROUD    COLUMBIA. 


M  "  And  lierc  I  pause  and  ponder  at  trace  of  friend  of  old." 

William  Turnnge,  in  all  those  regions  only  known  by  liis  sobriquet, 
"  Sliirt-collar  I'ill,"  the  famous  scout,  guide,  and  packer,  with  whom 
1  visited  the  Sleploe  and  other  battle-fields  of  the  great  Oregon  Indian 
war  of  1S56;  and  we  by  ourselves  enc.nmped  a  night  beneath  the 
basaltic  walls  of  the  deeply  eroded  canon  of  the  Peluse,  between  its 
mouth  at  Snake  River  and  its  s;ured  falls,  seven  miles  above,  in  1S70. 
W'c  slept  in  our  blaidcets  only,  among  the  bleaching  bones  of  the 
numerous  pinto  and  coyusc  horses,  Avhich  died  of  their  wounds,  of 
starvation,  or  were  slain  for  food  by  the  remnant  of  the  whiles,  while 
here  for  many  weeks  hemmed  in  by  the  victorious  Indians  after  the 
Steploe  defeat,  and  where,  in  the  days  of  close  fighting  with  knife, 
hatchet,  and  bows  and  arrows,  or  at  best  mainly  with  short-range, 
nuiz/le-loading,  ilint-lock    guns,  which,    from    the    liability    of   the 


Hi 


I  I 


V' 


N07KS. 


17 


powder  to  flash  in  tlie  pan,  wltc  never  a  lelialile  ^\\\\  at  vertical 
firing,  the  incidents  are  said  to  have  occurred  siihstantially  as  re- 
lated in  tlio  pueni. 


HO,   WAKEN! 


M  "  Ho,  waken,  you  dwellers  in  chambers  of  clay, 

Arise  from  your  slumbers  and  welcome  the  day  !" 

These  lines  are  an  iniaj^inary  ad(h-ess  to  a  group  of  skelelons  which 
I  found  in  a  walled-up  timber-  and  cement-covered  vault  in  the  l)asc 
of  a  great  eartli-mound  on  the  commanding  i)Iuff  above  Kast  l.)u 
bucpie,  Illinois,  during  my  past  season's  etluiological  researches  in 
the  Mississippi  Valley.  The  oak-timber  ceiling  was  so  decayed  as  to 
have  fallen  in,  but  the  cement  or  dried-mortar  roof  was  still  intact, 
and  the  skeletons  of  six  adult  persons,  four  children,  and  one  infant, 
the  latter  in  its  mother's  fleshless  arms,  were  mouldering  from  a  sil- 
ting posture  in  a  circle  around  sea-shell  dishes,  weapons,  and  uten- 
sils of  stone,  fragments  of  pottery,  and  rude  shell-ornaments. 

*  "  And  whose  is  this  dust  in  these  chambers  beside?" 

Each  end  of  the  vault  was  partially  walled  off,  and  contained  sev- 
eral bushels  of  very  fine  cremated  human  dust,  brought  and  thus 
carefully  garnered  from  some  unknown  and  perhaps  distant  locality ; 
although  several  of  this  group  of  mounds  which  I  opened  in  1857, 
and  others  near  Prairie  du  Chien,  Wisconsin,  during  the  past  season, 
were  unmistakably  cremation-mounds  above  the  skeletons  of  persons 
carefully  buried  in  the  earth  I)eneath  them. 


*8  "  And  why  are  these  ramparts  so  lofty  and  long 

Widespread  o'er  the  plains  where  the  antelope  throng  ?" 

This  group  of  mounds  is  near  the  southern  border  of  the  famous 

Effigy  mounds  of  Wisconsin,  the  beasts,  birds,  and  reptiles  of  which, 

including  the  so-called  Elephant  Mound,  one  hundred  and  forty-six 

feet  in  length,  are  along  the  Mississippi  uniformly  headed  southward. 

K  I" 


2l8 


NOT/IS. 


in 


NORTUE  RN    C  r,  1  M  IC. 

W  "  Faint  I  recall,  through  mists  of  lime." 

This  poem  is  iMtciuIcd  less  as  tlic  description  of  any  one  trip  to  the 
pathless  Northwest  than  of  tiie  u^ual  iiicickiits  allendin;;  all  of  them, 
as  well  as  the  tra.i^ic  fate  of  the  participaturs,  not  one  of  whom  that 
ascended  the  Saskatchewan,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  is  now  livint;.  In 
fact,  the  sole  survivor  of  those  early  trapper  and  trader  fricmls,  even 
those  who  ditl  not  cross  the  Ihitish  line  with  the  Hudson  l>ay  traders, 
is  the  cnerj^etic,  ever  temjierate,  moral,  lionoraMe,  and  now  esteemed 
and  honored  ex-State-senator  D,  W.  II.  Howard,  now  of  Wauseon, 
Fidton  ("ounly,  Ohio,  to  whom  none  of  the  too  often  just  tlenuncia- 
tions  of  the  border  trader  in  any  sense  apply.. 


DE    SOTO. 


"8  "  Damp  was  the  clay  and  dreary,  tlic  night  was  dark  and  cold ; 
Worn  were  my  limbs  and  weary,  my  rufuijc  hovel  old." 

The  incidents  in  these  lines  truthfullv-portraved  in  connection 
with  the  production  of  this  historical  poem  were  thus  jirecedetl  and 
followed.  Of  my  etlunjlo^ical  work  duriuij  the  past  season  were  re- 
searches of  the  famous  flat-top)ied  mounds,  earthwork  enclosures, 
and  uni([ue  potlery-liUed  cemeteries  of  a  supposed  jirehistoric  people 


alonif  the    Southern   havous,  lakes,  and   rivers,      C 


ommins. 


[led 


with 


tliese,  from  the  (oot-hills  of  the  Ozark  Mountains  in  Missouri  and 
Arkansas,  at  various  places  alon^  the  lilack.  White,  and  notably  the 
St.  Francis  Rivers  below  the  "sunk  lands"  of  the  "reat  eartluiuake 


)f  iSl  I  and  '12,  as  well  as  fr 


om 


M 


emjihis  to  Napole 


.'on 


lur 
alonjr  the  Mis- 


sissippi, and  much  of  the  country  visited  i)eyond  it,  are  detached  earth- 
works, popularly  believed  to  be  the  work  of  I)e  Soto  and  his  followers 
during  their  years  of  wanderinj^s  in  these  regions  nearly  three  centuries 


and  a 


half 


llL'O. 


One  of  these  is  near  I  lelena,  another  where  it  is  claimed 


tlieir  brii^antines  were  built,  at  Old  Town,  thirty-five  miles  (by  the 
river)  below  in  Arkansas,  and  another  in  Mississippi,  nearly  opposite 
the  latter,  but  somewhat  back  from  the  river,  near  the  line  residence 


-■  C'^ 


AOTfCS. 


210 


no 

111, 

;it 

II 

L'll 

■^. 


fiii'l  liospitaMc  home  of  the  brother-^  j.  and  J.  Ci.  CaiNon,  wliii  h  tlu-y 
h;ivc  fdiistnicti'd  upon  the  circuhir  acrt'  of  Hal  siiiuiiiii  to  an  amiciit 
inoiiiid  fidly  Iweiity  feci  hi^di.  W'hilr  cnj,'a;^cd  in  leseaiilic-i  of  lliis 
and  .siniil  ir  niDunds  adjacent,  I  spent  the  day  and  ni,L;ht  preeedhi;;, 
and  the  forenoon  of  ChriNtnia'^,  1SS2,  there  fnidinj;  and  partially 
l)eriisinj^  a  brief  narrative  of  De  Solo's  wandeiini^'s  and  (ii.atli,  \)v'\\\>^ 
the  Inst  connectetl  reeord  of  tlieni  whieii  I  liad  ever  ■>een.  Cliri-.tnia-. 
aflernoou  I  rude  six  miles  to  Frier's  Point,  crossed  tiie  >kiM-ferry  to 
Westover,  and  findinL;  no  better  mode  that  ni;,dit,  in  a  rude  (hii^'-oiit 
mulc-trou^h  as  a  eanoe,  ai<led  i)y  a  cohjred  man,  and  my  spade  as  a 
pachlle,  deseended  the  Mississippi  ten  miles,  and  obtained  such  iuiard 
and  lod^ini;  as  I  could  at  Old  Town,  now  reduecd  to  a  re^ideiiee 
and  a  rum-hole,  such  as  they  are. 

Although  there  are  some  line  ranches  alon<r  the  shores  t)f  Lonjj  and 
Old  Town  Lakes,  which  iialuially  outlet  here,  I  was  unable  duriiiij  the 
holidays  to  obtain  help  in  the  severe  but  successful  labor  of  openiiiij 
ancient  mounds  and  earthworks,  anil  securing'  human  skeletuiis, 
uiii(pie  pottery,  and  other  interesting;  relics.  With  health  seriously 
impaired  by  a  direct  transfer  from  years  of  duty  in  the  cool,  braciiiij 
Northern  air  at  the  fountaindieads  of  this  mii^hty  river  to  the  malarious 
fojrs  of  the  Southern  cypress-swamps  and  bayous  fully  four  thousand 
miles  adown  it,  and  unable  to  obtain  a  guide  or  horse,  I  relumed 
from  an  artluous  day's  effort  in  measuring  and  sketching  some  large 
and  interesfing  ruins  in  the  cane-brakes  six  miles  towards  ^b)'lock, 
■wet,  weary,  and  seriously  ill.  There,  in  my  rude  depo^-itory  of  relics, 
without  fire,  light,  or  window,  with  strangely  blended  thoughts  of 
my  cheerful  diitant  home,  of  the  ancient  occupants  of  the  jilace,  the 
embarkation  of  Moscosu's  remnant  of  De  Suto's  band,  and  the  fate 
of  both,  I  sought  unrefreshing  slumbers,  from  which  1  was  startled 
by  the  brief  tumult  of  a  descending  steamer  and  the  howling  o{  a  tran- 
sient winter's  storm.  Shivering  in  tlic  dreary  dawn,  this  record  of  my 
nigh'.'s  vision  was  commenced,  continued  at  intervals  in  the  measure- 
ments of  the  works  attributed  to  Moscoso  during  that  day,  and  con- 
cluded upon  that  following,  while  in  an  old  abandoned  cabin  upon  t!ie 
opposite  side  of  the  river  awaiting  a  steamer,  and  sliglitly  reviewed  in 
the  pleasant  cabin  of  the  "  Golden  Crowiv'  Ohio  boat  while  ascending 
to  Helena.  It  was  then  laid  aside  during  my  subsequent  researches 
along  the  Yazoo  and  .Sunflower  Rivers,  and  now  revised,  and,  to- 
gether with  this  note  of  explanation,  added  to  my  volume  of  Legends 


220 


A07/:S. 


now  in  press,  ns  the  sole  conliilmlioii  from  a  icj^ion  pro-cniiiu'nt  in 
tliosc  wliicli  an-  tlirilliiij,',  lioiii'liil  the  |ii>L'in  is  not  loo  ilci'iily  liiiti'il  !>/ 
the  s()nii)rc  shadows  siiiroiiiitrni^  its  couch  of  Itirlh. 

Ir  is  also  earnestly  hoped  tii.il  no  lan^uaj,'e  of  this  poem  will  l)0 
thoui^lil  to  wantonly  assail  any  nationality  or  leliyion.  Surely  the  in 
jiart  lineal  descendant  of  the  in  many  respects  ju>tly  lauded  •' I'il- 
j;rim>  of  I'iyinoutli  Kock,"  who  frankly  condennis  ilu-ir  witch-liurnin;^, 
(Quaker-expelling,  and  kindred  acts  of  bigotry,  intolerance,  and  per- 
secution towards  those  of  their  own  race  in  the  very  refuije  to  which 
they  lied  to  escape  it  themselves,  may  be  ]>ardoned  for  recalling  his- 
torical facts  and  wholesale  pillaj^c  or  slauj^hter  of  alien  paj^ans  in 
distant  lands, — acts  which  were  approved,  lauded,  and  rewarded  by 
prince  and  )K)ntiff  in  the  aj^e  of  the  actors,  when  ])r<)fessed  reli^'iou 
was,  alas !  t(K)  often  i)ropa^ated  alike  beneath  the  Crescent  and  the 
Cross,  with  the  Bible  for  a  shield  to  the  breast  of  one  party,  and 
potent  arj^uments  from  the  battle-axe,  the  scimiter,  or  the  sabre  to 
that  of  the  other. 


i 


M  "  Amid  the  lioUy  sliailows,  upon  the  gory  plain, 

UncufTiiicil  sleep  and  moulder  two  huiulred  sons  of  Spain." 

As  the  charmin>j  impression  derived  from  a  view  of  the  deep-fjreen 
foliage  of  a  grove  of  moaning  pines,  adown  a  mountain  slope,  along 
a  meandering  stream,  or  upon  a  landscape  of  wintry  snow,  even  so 
is  the  thrilling  effect  of  a  view  of  the  glistening  green  leaves  and 
brilliant  red  clusters  of  the  low-branching  holly,  fringing  the  sluggish 
bayous,  bordering  the  sombre-hued,  mos<-draped  gigantic  forests  or 
the  boundless  savannas  of  the  sunny  South,  while  these  evergreens 
are  there  as  beautiful  and  as  prized  in  the  towns  of  the  living  or  the 
cemeteries  of  the  dead  as  are  the  matchless  green  and  outline  of  the 
fragrant  balsam  in  those  of  the  frozen  North.  Hence  the  api)ropriate- 
ness  of  the  holly-grove  upon  the  slaughter-field  of  Mau-il-la,  which 
was  alike  one  of  the  most  wanton  and  merciless  slaughters  of  the 
innocent  natives,  and  also  tcs-riblc  and  far-reaching  retributions  upon 
the  white  invaders,  of  the  long  catalogue  of  the  Indian  battles  of  our 
country.  The  narrative  shows  that  De  Soto  entered  a  thriving  forti- 
fiec'  '  'n,  with  the  chieftain  a  captive,  and  a  long  retinue  of  slaves 
loaded  with  nearly  all  of  their  annnunitiem,  spare  arms,  camp  equip- 
age, and  countless  valuable  pearls  and  other  ornaments  taken  from 
the  living  or  plundered  from  the  graves  of  the  dead,  and  that  they 


I 


JVOVAS. 


221 


left  it  a  smoultlcrinj;;  iimcral  pyro,  alike  of  the  twd  tliwiisand  five  liun- 
tiled  ilefeiuU'rs,aiul  nearly  all  of  tlieir  slaves,  aniimiuitii)n,  camp  outlit, 
nii<l  pliimler,  more  tlian  one-third  of  tluir  inimlier  dead,an<l  the  most 
of  the  remainder  woiunled  around  it.  So  ^ailinj^f  were  his  losses  that 
l)e  Solo,  rather  than  eoiitimie  his  march  one  Imndred  miles  to  where 
he  knew  there  were  vessels  and  siijjplies  awaitiiii;  him  at  (prohahiy) 
Mobile,  hut  wdiere  hiii  reverses  in  fortune  would  also  heeome  ..nown 
to  the  world,  ehtjse  to  conceal  this  knowledge  from  his  followers; 
and  turiiiiij^  his  hack  ui)on  all  succor,  without  ammunition  or  su|)plies, 
followed  a  wanderinj^  life  of  rapine  to  a  remorseful  death  and  un- 
coftined  grave  at  a  n( w  uid<nown  locality  hcnealh  the  turbid  waters 
of  the  mighty  river  which  he  discovered.  After  nearly  a  year  of 
wandering  through  Arkansas  and  adjacent  regions,  months  of  brigan- 
linedmilding  and  terrible  fighting  and  suffering,  a  remnant  of  the 
l)an(l  under  Moscoso  reaehetl  a  Spanish  colony  in  Mexico,  nearly 
five  years  after  their  landing  in  Floriila,  which  was  May  30,  1539. 

Although  many  statements  in  the  narrative  of  These  wanderers 
seem  too  thrilling  to  be  true,  yet  in  my  researches  of  ancient  remains 
in  those  regions  I  found  much  to  sustain  and  little  to  disi)rove  their 
accounts,  that  without  regard  to  who  constructed  the  flat-topjicd 
mounds,  the  natives  of  De  Soto's  time  certainly  occu|)ied  them  iu 
the  midst  of  liandets  of  plaster-walletl  and  thatch-roofed  residences, 
protected  by  strong  palisades  and  surroundctl  by  extensive  cornfields 
and  gardens;  and  no  statements  of  the  poem  are  unsustained  by  the 
narrative  of  the  first  white  explorers  of  any  portion  of  the  mighty 
Mississippi  Valley. 


19^ 


f  I 


V  f 


y.' 


i 


i 


I 


G  L  O  S  S  A  R  \^- 


DKl'IXITION    OV    INDIAN    WORDS    AND    PROVIN- 
CIALISMS   USKD    1!V    Tin:  AUTHOR    IN    THE 
I'RI'XTCDINc;   VOLUMK   OK   l.KdKXDS. 

A. 

/ib'sa-ru'kn  (Dakota). — Crow  Iiuli.uis.     (See  Crow.) 

A-i^im'  (( )-jil)-\va). — Snow-shoe. 

An-i-me'ki  (O-jih-wa). — Tlumder. 

A  nis'trca   (Chilian). — A   rude   mill  projielled   hy  mule-  or   water- 

])()wer,  for  {fiiiuliiij;  {,'old  w  ilh  boulders. 
A-rick'a-ree'  (Pani).     A  trihe  of  Indians  found  alon;,'  the  Missouri 

River.     The  name  is  fre(|uently  abbreviated  to  Kick-a-ree,  and 

sometimes  even  Ree.     (See  those  names.) 
As-sin  (Chijipewa). — Stone. 
A-was'sa-iia'ki  (Chippewa). — Far  beyond  the  mountains. 


Badlands. — Elevated,  terribly    eroded,  and    Ijroken,  sterile    alkali 

plains  or  terraees. 
Ban-ach. — From  the  Indian  name  Ban-naek  (Pa-nai-tse),  a  tribe  of 

Indians  who  formerly  frequented  the  Yellowstone  National  Park, 

from  the  west. 


*  This  glossary  is  not  ])ublislied  as  a  classieal,  but  as  a  practical  and 
necessary  accompatiiment  of  this  work  of  tales  and  legends,  so  largely 
abounding  in  Indian  or  border  words,  names,  and  phrases,  and  is  be- 
lieved to  be  at  least  as  full  and  accurate  as  any  of  the  kind  of  which  I 
have  a  knowledge,  or  as  is  essential  for  a  proper  understanding  of  the 
incidents  related  in  the  work. 

22; 


MHM 


224 


ULOSS.IKY 


Btd-roik, — A  miner's  phrase  for  tlic  real  facts  of  n  case  or  foiimlatitm 
of  anylliin^,  froin  tlic  ^old  Neiiij^  usually  fDiiiid  upon  the  l)ciU 
rock  hi  placer  mining. 

Biy;  llolt\--\  very  lar^i-,  open,  and  elevated  piik  or  valley  and  pasH 
Ml  tlie  vi-ry  crest  of  the  Kn>.ky  Mountains,  which  nearly  encircle 
il,  upon  the  head  of  the  lli}^  Hole  ln.uuh  of  the  Jelfcr^ou  I'oik 
of  the  Mi^souii  River,  near  the  I)iii  I.oijj^e,  in  Montana. 

Jii^-hoiii. — The  name  (»f  the  laij^er  varii-ty  of  the  wild  mountain- 
sheep.  Thus  calleil  from  tlu' enoiiiU)Us  symmetrical  horns  of  the 
a<lult  mnles.  The  Ilij;  horn  Mouiitain>,  as  well  as  the  river  of  that 
name,  with  its  various  Horn  hranches,  derive  their  names  from 
the  immense  uumlier  of  these  animals  frc<|uentinjj  those  rej^ions. 

Jii'son — The  fleet  aiul  wary,  ilark,  luily  haired  hulfilo  of  the  moun- 
tain parks, 

fllack  I'eet. — An  Indian  nation  cnd»raciu^  the  iJlack  Keet,  lllood,  and 
I'i^an  tribes  ;  formerly  the  nuisl  powerful,  ferocious,  and  dreaded 
nation  infestinj^  the  head  waters  of  the  Columbia,  Missouri,  ami 
Yellowstone  Rivers. 

Bloody  Knife. — A  famous  Ree  or  a  Sioux  Mandan  warrior  and  ^uide 
for  the  whites.  He  was  killed  with  Chailey  Reynolds  in  Reno's 
valley  fi^dit  ujioii  the  day  of  the  Cutter  massacre. 

Bozctnan. — A  noted  j,'uide  and  rival  of  Ihi(i;j;er's  as  a  mouiUaineer, 
who  was  killed  by  the  Indians  upon  the  Yellowstone.  (See 
note  51.) 

Brid\i;er,  ytviics. — The  most  famous  j^ruide  of  the  mountains  ami  great 
plains  of  the  \y\s\.  i;eneration,  and  from  whom  Bridger's  Fort, 
I'.iss,  Lake,  and  several  streams  derive  their  names. 

Brule. — A  powerful  and  ferocious  tribe  of  the  Sioux  or  Dakota  nation, 
frecpieiUinjj  the  IJhuk  Hills. 

Buck'cye. — Orij^inally  the  name  of  the  .\uierican  horse-chestnut 
variety  of  timber,  from  the  abundance  of  which,  in  Ohio,  it 
became  the  provincialism  or  sobriipiel  (jf  the  Si  ile  antl  its  in- 
habitants. 

Buffalo, — The  ^rej^arious  shaj^}j;y  bi^on  of  tlie  j^real  plains.  For 
convenience  in  versification  lhe>e  names  are  used  interchangeably 
in  this  work. 

Bull-boat. — A  circular,  flat-bottomed  boat  used  upon  the  sand-b.ar 
rivers  of  the  treeless  great  plains,  usually  made  of  one,  but  s(jme- 
times  of  two,  green  buffalo-bull  hides.      (See  note  49.) 


cross  iRv. 

Butte   (!Mj,'Of)n  Frciuli). — A  conit-.il   liill- 


22^ 


niimiiit   of   {id^iuii    ii| 


<ntl 


the  ureal  |>l:iiiis  and  tiTnucd  hliillH  of  its  rivers  nn<l  fool  liilN  ..f 
the-  iiiouiitaiiis.  WJu'ii  f.i|)|.ftl  I)y  n  liori/ontal  layrr  of  h.u.kT 
rock  ihcy  arc  lalleil  taMo  luiltcs. 


Quite  (cash,  French).— lli.lin;;-i)late,— /.<•.,  ihc  peculiar  excavations 
in  dry  Mufl-.  for  the  j^oods,  trinkets,  powder,  and  fur,  uf  ihc  nl,l 
traders,  and  now  a  cant  word  for  hiding;  anylhinj,'.     (See  note  7S,) 

Ctii'tiis. — A  variety  of  this  well-known  thorny  plant,  lailcd  the 
prickly-pear,  is  the  pest  of  the  plains,  as  a  pil-^riin  in  atteniptinj,' 
to  crawl  for  a  shot  at  a  huffalu  or  an  antelope  will  soon  learn 
and  lon^  renunihcr. 

Cal'ii-met'  (O-jih-way).— The  sacred  Indian  i)ipe  of  peace.  (See 
note  i.y 

Cal'it-niit'  Quarry. — Sacred  ([Uarry,  in  Pipestone  County,  Minne- 
sota, near  the   border  of  Dakota. 

Ciim'tiss  (Nootka)  of  the  Chi-nook  jargon,  named  La'ka-mas^  for 
tlift  cdibled)ull)-root  of  a  plant  j;rowin^  in  fertile  meadows  in 
the  Colmnhia  River  reyiiins,  and  hence  the  nume-ous  camass- 
meadov.'s  and  stieanis. 

Ca-noe' . — Propi'rly  an  ()-jib-way  Indian  boat,  made  by  nollowin^  out 
a  lo^,  or  by  covering  a  liglit  frame-work  of  cedar  with  birch- 
bark,  but  now  also  applied  to  an  imitation  of  the  latter  covered 
with  oiled  canvas. 

Caflon  (Spanish), — A  deep,  narrow,  usually  eroded,  and  often  impas- 
sable mountain  water-way. 

Cr)7-('«''A/ (ky-o'ta,  S|)anish). — Properly  the  small  and  sneakiiij,'  but 
voracious  prairie-wolf,  but  the  name  is  frecjuently  applied  to  any 
variety  of  this  animal. 

Chei-ivoot'  (Chi-nook  jargon). — Hear. 

Chi-uook'  (Chi-nook  jarg(Mi). — A  },'eneral  name  for  the  Nez-Percc, 
Flaf'head,  Wal'ia-wal''la,  U''ma-til''la,  and  other  cluck  and 
whistling  Indians  of  the  Columbia,  as  well  as  their  peculiar 
jargon. 

Chip'J'c-xvay'  (Indian  tribe). — See  0-jibxoa. 

Copper  race. — Red  men,  or  the  Indian  aborigines  of  the  most  of 
North  America. 

Counts,  a  coo. — A  provincialism  for  the  French  word  coup,  for  a 


226 


OlOaSAAY. 


% 


l\ 


V\ 


stroke,  Mow,  or  notoh,  and  in  Imnlrr  purlnncc  litcr.-illy  sij^nifie* 
juMiii;,'  :i  cinip  iir  roo-Mciti  It  iip'iii  hU  tiill)->tii  k  Dr  ^Mm-li;iiiil  lint 
of  liiMii.iM  <«c.il|>^,  each  of  whiili  cmnilH  ciinally  ;  tm  tlu'  <t|ioulin(; 
)ieart'N-l)l(H)i|  of  nn  innocont  niaiden  or  Iii-I|)U>sh  infant  will 
cliri>(cn  ns  many  wnrriorn  nn  that  of  the  hravunt  chieftain.  The 
iitiniltir  of  ihoNO  entitUil  to  hecunie  warriors  or  add  n  coo  there- 
for l'ein)4  from  tlirte  to  live  of  the  liist  who  toiiih  tlu*  corpse,  in 
addilicin  to  tin*  one  wlio  st-mics  the  sialp,  none  of  whuni  n>ay 
perchance  he  llie  actual  flayer. 
CVoTi'. — All  Indian  nation  consiitin^j  of  the  nioiintahi  nml  river  trihcs, 
the  crafty  occupants  of  tlie  N'ellow.'ttonc  nnd  lii^-hurn  re^^ions. 
(Sec  Ab-sa-ni-l'ii.) 

D. 

Da-ko'tii, — The  Indian  name  for  the  Sioux  confederation  of  tribes, 
the  most  numerous  nnd  powerful  of  all  of  our  al)orij;inal  nations. 
Their  name  in  the  si^n-hui^^iiaj^c  is  represented  hy  drawing;  the 
ri^dU  hand  from  left  to  rit^ht  across  the  throat ;  literally,  cut- 
throat.    (See  Sioux.) 

Dtd'li'n, — A  peculiar  waterfall,  conjhinin;^  the  direct  Ic.ipof  the  cata- 
ract, the  •^Uippiiij;  of  the  saut,  or  leapiu;;  lapids,  an<l  notaltly  a 
hrokcn  line  of  falls  sideways,  often  fronting,'  each  other,  caused 
Ity  the  (lislod;;n\ont  of  basaltic  columns  nr  other  jointed  bed- 
n)cks,  as  at  the  dalles  of  the  Columbia  River.  The  name  is  not 
foun<l  in  dictionaries,  and  is  of  doubtful  ori^dn,  jierhaps  from 
the  word  dally,  or  delay  in  sport,  which  is  very  exi)ressive  of 
their  appearance. 

Deif-hlcixt. — A  Chippewa  Indian  woo<:cii  tube,  with  a  copper  or 
brass  tonjjue,  used  for  callin<;  tl»e  foe  to  her  fawn,  by  imilalinj; 
its  cries  when  hidden,  at  the  p.;ri<d  when  its  tracks  leave  no 
scent. 

Z)i^'i:[ers. — The  niost  dej^radcd  nborii^dnes  of  the  Humboldt  and  other 
alkaline  deserts;  so  called  from  their  liabits  of  dij^^dn;,'  for  the 
roots  of  plants,  as  well  as  for  snails  and  lizards,  upon  which,  or 
crickets  and  ^grasshoppers,  they  mainly  subsist. 

Dcg-soldier. — The  adult  Indian  males  who  have  not  counted  a 
"coup"  at  the  scalp-dance  to  christen  them  as  warriors. 

Dii-lttth'. — A  famous  French  missionary,  one  of  the  first  to  visit  the 
great  lakes  and  Upper  Mississippi  River  regions. 


S^ 


CLOSS.IA'i'. 


"7 


E. 


F.arlh-foii}^t'. — The  f;itno«H  ilrcul.u  M;in<l.iu  loil^^c  «»r  dwcllin^j.    (Seu 
nuic  47.) 


Flal'ficnd.—S.  trihc  of  Chinook  Imlians  of  the  IliltiT  Mot,  Jiulio, 
ami  otliiT  valU-ys  of  ihc  U|i|u;r  Colutuliii  River.  'I'lii.'  iiaiuo  is 
tli'iivcfl  fioin  ilif  aiuii'iit  (now  iil>;\niloiioi|)  cu^toiii  of  |irr>->iii^ 
llic  heads  «)f  ilii'ir  iulaiits  from  fiuui  to  rear,  in  iho  cl.imii  like 
hca<l-;^car  of  ihcir  haiiyinj,'  cradicn,  nn<l  is  oxpn-ssctl  in  ihc  si^;n- 
liinyuaj{u  by  |»atlin;{  the  u|)|nr  pait  of  the  foiehcatl  or  even  top 
of  the  h«ar|, — /.^.,  I'lat-head. 

FosiU forests,  or  [ninicval  forests  foHsili/.cd;  literally  true.    (See  nolo 

Q. 

Cfy'ser  (Icelandic,  .^^VM,  to  boil).  —  S|ioiitinj,'  or  spnrtnij^  hot 
.spriiij^s  of  several  varieties,  all  of  whirli  arc  found  in  siiri)assin^» 
mnnbers,  size,  and  beauty  in  the  Wonder-Land,  or  Vello\v^lonc 
National  I'arU. 

Con/. — The  white  or  lon^'-h.'i"  d,  web-footed  wild  sheep  of  the  snowy 
mountain  re^Mons  of  Idaho  and  Montana  Territories,  and  adjacent 
])ortions  of  the  IJritish  possessions.     (See  note  7-) 

6'i'/'//«-/(/«(/.--.See  I/00-i/oo;  also  note  27. 

(jrh'-z!y, — With  the  possible  exception  of  the  white  polar  bear,  the 
larj^est  and  most  ferocious  variety  of  the  species.  The  name  is 
from  the  color  and  texture  of  the  outer  coating  of  their  hair. 


H. 

Jlii'lo. — Properly,  a  circle  round  the  sun  or  moon;  but  in  this  work, 
as  upon  the  border,  the  name  sij^iiifies  the  areola  around  the 
column  of  hot  water  from  the  spoiuinj^  j;cyser,  or  the  iiiin\itably 
beautiful  oscillatinjj  rainbows  in  the  mist-eloud  above  them,  or 
of  cataracts. 

Ilf'-khii-ka'  (Dad<o-la). — The  antlercd  or  male  elk. 

."loo'doo. — A  mountain  and  region  of  rocky  goblin-forms  near  'he 
Wonder-I.and.     (See  note  30.) 

//o~o'-/io'o'. — Jargon;   coriuption  of  the  salutation  "  How  arc  you?" 


>l 


22S 


CLOSSAin, 


ll'lalti'  (Cliinook  jar^^'on). — (.'(Hiiitiy  (niy). 

I-um'  (E-suii,  Saiilucj. —  Knife. 

J-san  {'J'an'ka;  K-s6ii,  Tou''ka). — I5i<j- Knives;  Americans. 

hk'ko-te-wa'bo  (Chippewa). — Whiskey. 

K. 

Kit'  (Chippewa  or  O-jib-wa). — No. 

Ka'kiui'  (Cliinook  jargon). — Crow  or  raven. 

Kctm'ook  (C"hinook  jarj^on). — I)oiJ. 

Ke'new  (O-jil)-wa). — War-Eajfle. 

Ki'ji  (ke'jc,  (.)jih-wa). — Perfect. 

Ki'ji-Maii-i'toii  (ke-je-Man-e-tou). — Perfect  spirit;  j^ood  (jod. 

Kin'-ne-ko-nhk' . — A  phmt  used  as  a  substitute  ft)r  tobacco. 

Kitch-i gain' i  {0-]\\i-\\'v^). — Great  water;  hake;  Lake  Superior. 

Kitch' i-ino' ko-vuxn'  (0-jib-wa). — Hig-Knife  ;  American. 

Ko-koJi'  (O-jib-wa). — Swine  or  their  flesh  ;  pork. 


Lo'kix-mas'  (Chinook  jarjfon). — See  Cam-ass. 

Lake  Pcp'in. — A  broad,  placid  expansion  of  th*;  Mississippi  River  in 
Southern  Minnesota. 

Lar'a-mic. — A  fort  upon  the  norlli  fork  of  the  PKatte  River,  long  a 
famous  oulfittin<f  point  for  {^old  seekintj  jiilj^rims.  Also  the 
name  of  a  town,  county,  river,  and  a  very  f  \tensive  and  beautiful 
but  elevated  jiark  called  Plains,  in  Wyoming  Territory. 

Leaping  Rork. — A  famous  tcttering  vertical  fragment  of  the  wall- 
rock  of  the  Calumet  Cliffs. 

LVon. — The  mountain-lion,  so  called.  A  very  large  and  ferocious 
variety  of  the  panther,  similar  to  the  Mexican  cougar,  whose 
midnight  screams  startle  like  the  Indian  war-whoop. 

Little-horn. — Properly,  a  western  branch  of  the  Little  Big-horn  River, 
but  formerly  applied  to  the  entire  branch,  now  called  Custer 
River,  upon  the  coteau  bluffs  of  which  he  met  his  fate. 

Looking-Glass. — The  ablest  of  the  Nez-Percos  chiefs,  who  aided 
Chief"  Joseph  ihroughout  his  matchless  retreat,  a. id  fell  in  the 
coula- trenches  of  his  last  battle  at  the  Woocty  Mountain,  near 
the  British  line. 


GLOSSARY, 


229 


J.o'lo-lo'  (lue'-la-loo,  CliinooU  jargon).— Coiuiuoior. 

Loiii^-Knifc. — White  man,  so  called  by  the  Intlians  from  the  swords 
of  the  military  oflfii  (Ms, 

Loping-stecJs. — Pinlos,  bronchos,  cay-ouse,  and  miistan};,  half  or 
wholly  wild  horses  of  the  West,  the  natural  and  habitual  ^ait  of 
nearly  all  of  which  is  a  lope,  or  long,  swinging,  graceful  canter, 
selihmi  equalled  by  the  larger  but  less  sure-footed  and  hardy 
blooded  horses  of  the  East. 

Lovely  River. — The  Yellowstone,  between  its  lake  and  Great  Falls; 
a  peculiarly  approi)riate  name. 

M. 

Maiden'' s  Leap. — Rocky  clifts  upon  the  eastern  shore  of  Lake  Pepin, 
famous  in  Indian  legends.     (See  note  15.) 

Atak-7va'  (Chippewa). — Bear. 

Man-dan' . — A  f  .nous  tribe  of  village  Indians.     (See  note  47.) 

Man'i-tou'. — Thus  Anglicized  from  the  0-jib-wa.  M-an-i-to,  mys- 
tery, or  mysterious  spirit;  God;  and  in  these  legends  is  by  po- 
etical license  for  symphony  pronounced  Man-ec'ta. 

Ma"'o-nim'  (0-jib-wa  or  Chippewa). — Wild  rice. 

Mar-qucite' . — An  early  daring  but  devout  missionary  and  explorer, 
froTi  whom  several  towns  and  streams  of  Michigan  derive  their 
names. 

Min'ne-ha^lia. — Laughing- Water.  Name  of  a  lovely  waterfall 
near  St.  Paul,  and  also  of  the  heroine  of  Longfellow's  "  Hia- 
vvr.'cha,"  as  well  as  of  the  Maiden's  Leap  at  Lake  Pepin,  in  the 
legend  of  "  The  Calumet  of  the  Coteau."     (See  note  15.) 

JMin'ne-kc'wa  (Santee). — Water-god. 

Min'ne-o'la. — Legendary  lover  of  Minnehaha. 

Min'ne-o'pa. — A  famous  legendary  warrior  of  the  Coteau  Indians. 

Min'ne-tan'ka. — Mighty  river;  the  Mississippi.  Also  a  lake  in 
Minnesota. 

Min'ne-wa-kan  (water-god), — Sometimes  applied  to  a  steamboat. 

Min'ne-wa'tva  (Longfellow). — Pleasant  sounds,  as  of  the  summer 
breeze  and  the  leaves  of  the  gro'e  upon  the  parched  plai'ns. 

Min'ni  (Da-ko-ta). — Water. 

Rio' Ica-man'  (Chippewa). — Knife. 

Mos'vios  (Chinook  jargon). — Buffalo. 

Mount' ain-cat. — The  lynx,  or  largest  variety  of  the  short -tailed  wi>d- 

20 


23© 


CLOSSAKY. 


\ 


I 


cat,  being  nearly  as  large  and  more  ferocious  tlian  the  catamount 
or  panther. 

AIouutain-Gate. — The  hst  caOon  upon  the  Missouri,  Yellowstone, 
and  other  rivers,  through  which  they  cnurge  from  the  snowy 
mountains  to  the  rclativfly  open  valleys  or  plains. 

Mits'liing. — Tlie  small  loping  horse  of  Texas  and  the  great  plains, 
usually  half  and  often  fully  wild. 

Alys'tic  Lake  "  of  Wonder-Land,"  as  distinct  from  a  lovely  mountain- 
lake  near  IJozcman,  Montana. 

Alys^tic  River. — The  Yellowstone,  the  most  of  which,  as  well  as  its 
lake,  were  long  only  vaguely  kn(jwn  from  legends  of  the  Indians 
or  talcs  o(  the  roving  trappers  of  those  regions. 

N. 

Na'lion, — A  primitive  people,  consisting  of  more  than  one  tribe,  often 
of  several  or  many,  usually,  though  not  always,  confederate. 

Nez-Per'ce  (French). — I'ierced  nose.  A  famous  nation  of  Chinook 
Indians. 

Ni-ba'  (Chippewa). — Water. 


Ob-sid' e-an  Clijfs. — Cliffs  of  natural  glass  fronting  Beaver  Lake  in 

the  Yellowstone  National  Park. 
0-de-o'na  (Chippewa). — Village. 
Og'i-ma'  (Chippewa). — Chief. 
0-jib-wa. — A  powerful  tribe  of  Indians  of  the  Upper  Mississippi  and 

Ujiper  Lake  regions.     (See  CIiippc7va.) 
Os'a-ga'  (Chippewa). — Sauk  Indian. 
Os-iu-a-ry. — Deposit  of  human  bones. 

P. 

Pale-face. — White  man. 

Pam'pas. — A  poetical  license  in  applying  the  name  to  the  prairies  of 

the  North  as  well  .as  South  America. 
Pap-poose'  (0-jib-wa). — Indian  child. 
Park. — A  relatively  broad,  elevated    mountain-girt  valley,  one  or 

more  of  which  are  found  upon  all  the  streams  of  the   Rocky 

Mountain  region. 


fb^ 


CLOSSA/^Y. 


231 


Pevi'i  can. — Deer-,  elk-,  or  Ijiiffalo-nicat  dried,  pounded,  and  mixed 
with  tnllow,  marrow,  or  bear's  {,'rease. 

Pil'grims. — A  provincialism  or  !)or(ljr  name  for  inexperienced  miners, 
and,  in  a  broader  sense,  the  travelling  new-comers,  especially 
miners,  of  a  western  region. 

Pin'to  (Spanish). — Spotted.  The  famous  spotted  loping  war  horse 
of  the  Columbia  River  Indians. 

Plains,  Great. — The  elevated,  treeless  regions  between  the  Rocky 
Mountains  and  the  prairies,  from  the  latter  of  which  they  greatly 
differ,  notably  in  tlieir  short  tufts  of  buffalo  and  other  native 
grasses,  often  commingled  with  the  prickly-pear  and  the  sage- 
brush. 

Pros-pect'er. — A  roving  exploring  miner. 


Que^ii-qiie'ii  (Chinook  jargon). — Circle,  circle. 

R. 

Ranch. — Border  farm,  usually  very  extensive,  ann   mainly  for  pas- 

turage. 
Ree. — Indian  tribe.     (See  Rickaree.') 
Red-Cloud. — A  famous  Sioux  chieftain  from,  w.iom  the  war  at  the 

close  of  the  Rebellion  was  called,  as  he  was  the  acknowledged 

leader  of  the  hostile  Indians. 
Red  men. — North  American  Indians. 
Rick'a-ree' . — Indian  tribe.     (:-     Arickaree.) 
Rov'er. — Trappers,  traders,  prospecters,  and  other  wanderers  of  the 

border. 

S. 

Sa'crcd  Quar'ry. — Calumet  Quarry.     (See  note  I.) 

Sals' se. — Mud  ge)sers. 

^.v'/a  (Da-ko-ta).— Black. 

Sas'ka-shaion' . — Anglicized  name  for  the  River  of  the  Rapids  in 

British  America. 
Scalp' -dance. — As  the  name  signifies,  a  dance  over  the  scalps  of  fallen 

foes. 
SJia  (Da^ko-ta).— Red. 
67v/(Da-ko-ta).— White. 
Sheep. — Wild  sheep  of  two  varietieo.     (See  note  7.) 


I! 


232 


GLOSSARY, 


S/iee/)- Fathers. — The  poor,  timid,  and  orij^inally  harmless  aborij^inos 
of  the  Wonder- 1, a  ml,  so  called  fmni  their  habit  of  oljtaininjj 
their  main  supplies  of  food  and  clothing  by  the  slaughter  of  these 
animals. 

S/iun'hi  ( Da-ko-ta). — Dog. 

Shun' ka-iva' kan  (San-tee). — Sacred  dog:  horse. 

Shun'tan'ka  (I)a-ko-ta). — JJig  dog;  horse. 

Shun-tan-ka-ti-pi. — Horse-lodge;  big-dog  house;  barn. 

Shun-to- ke-cha. — The  other  dog;  wolf. 

Si'oux'  (Se'ou'',  Da-ko-ta). — Nation  of  Indians.     (See  note  5.*) 

Si'wash  (Chinook  jrrron). — Male  Indian. 

Skoo' kuin  (Chinook  j  r  —Brave. 

Stin'-dance. — The  coura^,  sling  dance  and  tortures  of  the  male 
Indian  at  the  age  of  puberty. 

T. 

Tan'ka  (ton-ka,  Da-ko-ta). — Large  ;  great. 

Tau-rine. — Chieftain;  Sitting- liull;  an  Un-ca-pap-pa  Sioux  chief- 
tain, leader  of  the  hostile  savages  at  the  Custer  massacie. 

Tee' pee. — From  the  Dakota  ti-pi,  or  skin-lodge,  as  distinct  from  the 
Chippewa  mat  or  the  Mandan  earth-lodge.  It  is  the  totem 
war-lodge  of  the  Hlackfeet  Indians,  but  the  name  is  often  used 
interchangeably  with  other  skin-lodges. 

Ter^race. — Remnants  of  eruption  or  erosion,  and  often  of  both, 
rising  in  long,  horizontal,  stair-like  lines  from  many  of  the 
mountain-lakes  and  rivers. 

TiVla-cume'  (Chinook  jargon). — Enemies. 

Ti'ions. — Tee'tons. 

To'tem. — Symbolic  Indian  name. 

U. 

Ute. — An  Indian  nation  of  several  southern  tribes. 


4h 


W. 

Wa'h  (O-jib-wa). — An  exclamation  much  as  "there,"  "so  be  it." 
Wa-kan'  (wa-kon',  Dakota). — Mysterious  one. 
Wa-kuJt'da  (Kick-a-poo). — Mysterious  being ;  God. 
VVa-kan' sich' cha. — Bad  mysterious  one ;  devil,  or  whiskey. 


G/.OSSAIiY. 


233 


PF<i-/l'<r>i^/<r>iU'(7.—GrcAi  Wakan ;  j;ical  myslcrious  one;  Goil  Al- 
iiiiglity. 

Wdin'puin. — Strings  of  shell-heads. 

^Van  (Dakota). — One,  a  or  an. 

Wii'pa-ha  (Dakota).— A  hat  or  cap. 

\Vai-lHm')iel.—'U\Q  famous  ceremonial  liead  ilress  and  slrcami'.i|^ 
l)endant,  ornamented  with  \var-eajj[le  (iiiills. 

War-dame.— K  grand  dance  (jf  In.lian  warriors  in  full  paint  and 
feathers  at  the  ceremonial  unearthing  of  the  hatchet  and  hurling 
it  at  the  totem  of  their  foes,  while  preparing  for  an  expedition 
against  them. 

War-Ea^gle.—)riO  called  from  the  parti-colored  quill-feathers  which 
are  the  favorite  ornament  of  the  war-bonnet  and  other  head-gear 
of  an  Indian  warrior;  and  even  a  lone  quill  erect  in  the  .scalp- 
lock  is  highly  valued. 

War%vhoop.—'\\\^  piercing  scream  of  the  Indian  warriors  in  battle, 
which  is  often  modified  to  a  prolonged  vibrating  howl,  echoing 
with  awful  intensity  in  the  dark  pine-  and  cedar-fringed  gorges 
of  the  mountains,  and  once  heard  can  never  be  forgotten. 

Was'-sa-mo'win  (Chippewa).— Lightning. 

IVa-xva  (Chinook  jargon). — Call. 

Woolly-sheep.— '"^Xxv^  white  wild  sheep  or  goat  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains. 

Won-der-Laud.—lhc  Yellowstone  National  Tark. 

Wi-chen-yan-na  ( Dakota). — Girl. 

Wick'e-iip'  (Sho-shone).— Brush-house.     (See  note  82.) 

Win'-i-ban  (0-jib-wa). — Gone. 

Wi'ia-ivaUa  (Da-ko-ta). — Ship  or  boat. 

Wiz'ard  {^]'Xigo\\).—h.\\  Indian  medicine-man,  sorcerer,  or  magician. 

Y. 

Yanc'tona  or  Yanc'to-a. — Northern  tribe  of  the  Sioux  nation  of 
Indians. 


20 


,* 


y  •'.' 


I: 


^Jtkfntftn  witfMihc  saline*  umivthttiiraeAme^'tJi:       x''"'   /♦A*^  M'f»««* '^ 


ito'ao 


tmio 


^^^ 


ITNO.CO.N.Y.  (OSBORNE'S  PROCE&&.) 


(UIIDIMKJOK  OF  TIIK  YKLLOWSTONI': 
NATIONAL   IWRK. 


INTRODUCTION. 

At  the  suggestion  of  some  prominent  and  prnctitnl  friends  who 
nave  visited  the  Yellowstone  National  I'ark,  or  wl\o  propose  doing 
so,  I  add  a  map  thereof  and  brief  deseription  of  its  leading  points 
of  attraetion,  together  with  illustrations  of  some  of  those  refcrreil  to 
in  these  legends,  and  a  few  praelieal  suggestions  regarding  the  season, 
the  route,  and  the  cost  of  visiting  tliem.  The  map  is  a  duplieate  of 
that  in  my  report  of  l88l,  except  the  colors,  and  the  size,  which,  in 
reducing  to  accord  with  the  pages  of  this  work,  is  somewhat  snif"  for 
clearness  ;  hut  map,  directions,  and  suggeslicms  are  c msitlered  at  least 
as  correct  and  practical  as  any  yet  published  regarding  the  Wonder- 
Land. 


^ 


PRELUDE. 

In  .11  these  blooming  valleys,  along  each  crystal  stream. 
And  snow-encircled  lakelet,  where  quivering  halos  gleam, 
These  labyrinths  of  goblins,  and  spouting  \;eyscis  grand. 
Unnumbered  are  the  marvels  throughout  the  Wonder-Land  ; 
As  wintry  storms  build  snow-fields,  and  summer  breezes  thaw, 
All  nature  seems  in  ccmtrast,  in  beauty,  size,  or  awe, 
Creation, growth,  and  ruin,  the  universal  law! 


i| 


LOCATION  OY  THE   PARK. 

From  this  map,  in  connection  with  that  of  the  Land  Office  of  the 
United   States,  it  will    be   seen   that  the   Snake   River  fork  of  the 

235 


fio'-m 


iio-w 


iwto 


- "     - U£ll 


nEAoQirAnTKHH , 


iwto 


uo'to' 


m»'so 


AM. PH0TO-UTHO.CO.N.Y  (OSBORNES  PROCESS.) 


T"' r — If 


1 


236 


CVfl^F.-nOOK  Oh    THE  P.th'h'. 


Ci)Iiiml)in,  nnd  drffn  Kivcr  fork  f»f  \\\c  Colorado  of  the  (Iiilf  of. 
Califoriiiii  (P-uitic  w.itcrt),  luul  iirarly  all  the  other  j;rcat  rivers  of 
thai  part  of  the  cot)tiiu-nt,  iiuluilin^'  (he  Ji-ffiTson,  Madison,  niid  («al< 
l.itin  forkn,  and  the  Hi^-horii  niid  other  liranches  of  the  MisKouri, 
MUsissipjii  (Atlantic  watcrn),  to  a  fjriat  extoiit  radiate  from  spoiilinj» 
^I'ysi  rs  or  other  hot  sprin^js  wilhiij  or  udjaiciit  to  the  ^roat  National 
I'arU,  situated  niaitiiy  in  Wyoming'  Territory,  aiul  uUo  c-iuhracing 
portions  of  Idaho  and  Montana. 

This  wonderful  rejjion  in  really  less  one  large  park  than  n  k^*'""!' 
of  snutller  ones,  partially  or  wholly  isolatcil,  upon  holh  sides  iA  the 
continental  <livide,  which  is  niuih  lower  in  the  Park  than  the  nearly 
unbroken  surroundinj^'  tnounlain  ran;;eH.  Its  average  altitude  proli- 
al)ly  exceeds  that  of  Yellowstone  Lake,  or  nearly  a  half-mile  hi^dier 
than  Mount  Washington.  Its  few  yawning,  ever  difikult,  often  xxw* 
passable  caflon  approaches  along  foaming  torrents,  the  superstitious 
awe  inspired  by  the  hissing  springs,  sulphur-basins,  and  spouting 
geysers,  and  the  inrie(|ucnt  visits  of  the  surrounding  jiagan  Indians 
have  cuniinned  to  singularly  delay  the  exploration  of  this  truly  mystic 
land. 

Although  Lewis  and  Clarke,  by  ascending  the  Jcflerson  instead  of 
the  Madison  or  Gallatin  fork  i)f  the  Missouri  in  1805,  crossed  the 
Rocky  Mountain  divide  west  of  the  Park  without  its  discovery,  yet  it 
is  from  a  nicnd)er  of  that  early  band  of  northwestern  explorers  that 
we  derive  our  fust  knowledge  of  its  existence. 

Sergeant  Coulter,  after  his  honorable  discharge  from  this  expedi- 
tion, and  famous  gantlet- ruiuiing  escape  from  the  f-irocious  Blackfeet 
Indians,  accompanied  the  Sheep-Eaters  amid  the  spouting  geysers, 
fire-hole  basins,  and  other  marvels  of  these  regions,  nnd  ever  after 
his  return  to  Missouri  in  iSio  gloried  in  describing  them;  yet  so 
little  credence  was  given  to  his  narrative  that  for  many  ytrrs,  even 
long  after  I  was  fust  upon  the  Lower  Yellowstone,  Coulter's  Hell  was 
a  standing  camp-fire  jest  upon  now  well-known  realities,  .'Jut  John 
Coulter  was,  without  a  shade  of  doubt,  the  first  while  explorer  of  any 
portion  of  the  Yellowstone  National  Park. 

The  want  of  space  prevents  the  use  of  much  material  at  hand  rc- 
ganling  the  wanderings  of  Henry,  Sublett,  Bonneville,  liridger,  and 
many  other  renowned  trappers  and  Indian-fighters  of  those  regions, 
of  the  fruitless  United  States  exploring  expedition  of  Captain  Rey. 
nolds  during  1859  and  i860  in  search  of  the  Park,  or  of  the  camp-fire 


k 


GUI ni:- HOOK  of  the  vank'. 


•37 


legend"*  (if  thf  ^<iI(l-Hcekinj»  piljjrints,  \n\\\v  n(  whom,  iiirhi'lin^  Cap* 
tiiin  I)c  I,.i(  y,  (iiMir^r  lliistoii,  (J.  11.  rhcljin,  and  I'tiili-rii  k  llottUr, 
UMi|iio>tint)nl)ly  visited  portioiin  of  (he  Park  prior  tu  iSjU,  tliuugh 
noiio  of  lliein  had  then  pultlishrd  imrrntivcH. 

Having  ntyscir,  Ion;;  before  the  Reynolds  expedition,  failed,  a!i  he 
did,  to  reach  the  I'ark  from  the  east,  early  in  June,  1870,  I  u^'ain 
sought,  :'fter  many  years'  absence  front  those  regions,  to  reach  it  Ity 
ascending  the  Yellowstone  aliove  the  (iaic  of  (hi  Mountains,  nccnni- 
panicti  by  Frederick  Bottler,  from  the  Uottler  ranch.  Deep  snowH 
halilcd  our  resolute  efTorts  to  cross  the  Madison  rnn^^e  to  the  geysers, 
nn«l,  when  seeking  to  dcsceml  to  the  Yellowstone  Valley  below  the 
Manunolh  Hot  Springs,  Dottier  was  swept  nwny  in  attempting  to 
cross  a  mountain  torrent  above  Cinnabar  Mountain,  losing  his  rille, 
nmmunition,  most  of  his  clothing,  and  nearly  his  life.  This  mis- 
hap compelled  our  unwilling  return  from  within  the  I'ark  through 
the  then  nearly  unknown  and  in>p  sable  second  caflcm  of  the  Yel- 
lowstone to  Bottler's,  the  only  wluu;  ranchman  at  that  tinic  upon  any 
portion  of  the  nughty  Yellowstone  River.  Thence  I  retraced  my 
route  to  Fort  FIlis,  ])ublished  a  brief  account  of  my  trip  (see  No.  3 
of  my  "  Journal  of  Rand>les  in  the  Far  West"),  and,  under  i)rcvious 
engagements,  descended  the  Columbia  to  the  ocean,  then  proposing 
to  return  to  the  exploration  of  the  Park  the  next  year. 

During  the  f«>llowing  autumn  the  Washburn  expedition  was  sud- 
denly organized  for  I'ark  exploration.  It  was  comi)ose(l  of  II.  I). 
Washburn,  N.  P.  Langford,  T.  C.  Everts,  S.  T.  Ilauser,  C.  Hedges, 
W.  Trundndl,  B.  Slickney,  W.  C.  Gillett,  and  J.  Smith.  General 
Washburn,  in  command,  was  then  surveyor-general,  T.  C.  Everts  and 
N.  P.  Langford,  ex-officers,  and  all  prominent  and  esteemed  citizens 
of  Montana  Territ«)ry.  They  were  well  ccpiipped,  and  at  Fort  Fills 
were  joined  by  Lieutenant  G.  C.  Doane  and  seven  men.  From  here 
they  followed  my  return  route  to  and  up  the  Yellowstone  through  its 
second  caflon.  They  missed  the  Mammoth  Hot  Springs,  buf  visited 
Mount  Washburn,  the  Great  F'alls  and  Lake,  returning  by  the  Fire- 
Hole  River  and  Madison  route  to  Virginia  City.  When  among  the 
fingers  of  the  Yellowstone  Lake,  Everts  lost  his  way,  horse,  arms, 
and  provisions,  and  after  thirty-seven  days  of  exposure,  starvation, 
and  sufTering,  doubtless  unequalled  by  any  other  man  now  living,  was 
found  by  Baronet  and  Pritchette,  barely  alive,  upon  the  mountain 
which  bears  his  name,  near  the  Mammoth  Hot  Springs.     This  is  the 


238 


GUIDE-BOOK  OF  THE   PARK. 


first  party  of  really  successful  explorers  of  any  considerable  portion  of 
the  I'.irk  of  which  we  have  any  public  record. 

The  iiUeresl  elicited  by  the  publications  of  several  of  these  parties 
led  to  Professor  Ilayd'-n's  geological  explorations  of  1S71,  and  that 
to  Conj,M-essional  dedication,  Marc'.  I,  187.'',  of  the  Yellowstone 
National  Park,  under  the  control  of  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior. 

This  laudable  outburst  of  national  enthusiasm  in  behalf  of  a  peer- 
less health  and  ple.'sure-resort  for  our  peo)/le  seems  to  have  subsided 
with  its  dedication;  and-  without  any  practical  provision  for  its  pro- 
tection, it  was  for  years  abandoned  to  destructive  forest-fires,  wanton 
slauf^hter  of  its  interesting  and  valuable  animals,  and  constant  and 
nearly  irreparable  vandalism  of  many  of  its  prominent  wonders.  So 
uniform  was  the  testimony  of  the  civil  and  military  officers  of  the 
government,  as  well  as  of  the  American  and  European  scientists,  and 
of  myself  and  other  tourists  who  visited  the  Park,  and  so  strong  their 
appeals  to  the  nation  for  its  protection,  or  at  least  the  sending  of  a 
commissioner  or  an  agent  specially  empowered  to  investigate  and 
report  the  facts,  that  among  the  early  acts  of  the  Hon.  Carl  Schurz, 
Secretary  of  the  Interior  in  1S77,  was  my  appointment  ns  superinten- 
dent of  the  Park,  specially  instructed  to  again  visit  it  and  report  the 
facts  as  I  should  then  find  tlicm,  for  the  information  of  Congress  ;  but 
as  to  funds  for  salary,  or  even  expenses,  none  were  furnished  or 
promised,  but  I  was  left  to  rely  upon  Congress  to  make  provision* 
for  all  salary  and  expenses  prior  to  July  I,  1888,  to  properly  pay  for 
the  performance  of  duties  pointed  out  and  jiositively  recpiired  of  the 
Secretary  of  the  Interior  in  the  act  dcdicatirig  the  I  ark. 

Under  these  circumstances,  and  without  pecuniary  aid  from  any 
department,  association,  or  individual,  I  proceeded,  via  IJismarck, 
Forts  Buford  and  Keogh,  ihe  Custer  battle-field,  and  Gate  of  the 
Mountains  upon  the  Yellowstone,  to  the  Park,  After  visiting  the 
most  important  of  its  known  wonders  and  exploring  others,  I  started 
to  desceiul  the  Yellowstone,  but,  meeting  General  .Sherman,  returned 
with  him  to  Tower  Falls,  ilere,  l)y  the  breaking  of  a  saddle-girth, 
I  was  unhorsed,  and  too  seriously  injured  to  proceed  with  the  general 
or  even  to  i-eturn  home,  except  by  descending  the  Yelljwstone  in  a 
skiff  from  abovr  the  Gate  of  the  Mountains,  whirh  course  I  adopted. 


*  'J  his,  upon  the  recommendation  of  the  Honorable  Secretary  of  tne  Interior  and 
the  endorsement  of  the  President,  unanimously  passed  both  Hjiiseb  since  the 
close  of  my  ofBcial  connection  with  'lie  Park. 


/ 


. 


/ 


GUIDE-BOOK  OF  THE  PARK. 


239 


Dmiii^^  my  return  home  the  hostile  Nez-Pcrccs  made  a  raid  in  the 
Park,  which  was  so  sudden  and  unexpected  that  General  Sherman 
and  his  slender  escort  narrowly  escaped  capture.  Several  touri>,ts, 
however,  then  in  the  Park,  were  killed,  wounded,  or  cai)tured. 
Anu)n},'  these  was  Professor  Dietrich,  whose  body  was  riddled  witii 
bullets  while  he  was  standing  in  the  door-way  of  the  McCar'ney 
cabin  at  the  Mannnoth  Iltjt  Springs. 

The  facts  and  suggestions  in  reference  to  the  Park,  as  submitted  by 
myself  to  the  Honorable  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  were  incorporated 
in  his  report  of  1S77  (part  fnst,  page  S37),  and  also  deemed  by  him 
worthy  of  publication  m  pampldct  form.  (See  Report  of  the  Super- 
intendent of  the  Yellowstone  National  Park  for  1877.) 

After  a  long  and  careful  investigation  of  the  whole  subject,  and  in 
consideration  of  the  written  opinions  of  prominent  scientists  and  ex- 
plorers of  our  country,  the  cautious  and  prudent  Congress  of  that 
period,  at  its  first  session,  with  flattering  unanimity  made  an  appro- 
priation of  ten  thousand  dollars  for  the  protection  and  improvement 
of  the  Park,  being  the  first  ever  furnished  from  any  source,  and  with 
a  portion  of  which  the  first  improvements  ever  made  in  the  Park  were 
commenced  at  the  Mammoth  Hot  Springs  during  the  Bannock  raid 
of  1S78,  and  have  been  continued  as  appropriations  have  since  been 
made. 

AREA   OF   THE   PARK. 

Two  matters  in  connection  with  the  Yellowstone  National  Park 
tend  to  great  and  general  misapprehension  regarding  it.  These  are, 
in-st,  its  name,  and,  second,  its  area,  or,  as  perhaps  best  treated,  in- 
versely. 

The  United  States  maps  and  authorities  show  it  to  be  an  oblong 
square,  62  miles  in  length  from  north  to  south,  and  54  miles  in  width 
from  east  to  west,  containing  3348  s(|ua.e  miles. 

The  tenth  census  of  the  United  States  shows  that  the  area  of  the 
State  of  Delaware  is  1960  square  miles;  State  of  Rhode  Island,  1085 
square  miles;  District  of  Columbia,  60  square  miles;  and  the  aggre- 
gate area  of  tlxe  counties  of  New  York,  Kings,  and  Richmond,  of 
the  State  of  New  York,  is  150,  equal  to  3255  scjuare  miles.  Thus 
the  most  recent  and  reliable  authorities  extant  show  that  this  great 
national  land  of  wonders  contains  93  square  miles  in  excess  of  the 
"ggi'L'g^te  area  of  two  of  the  original  thirteen  States  of  the  Union,  the 


.'       /* 


240 


GUIDE-BOOK  OF  THE  PARK. 


District  of  Ojlumbia,  containinp;  the  capital,  and  tlie  tliree  counties 
of  the  Slate  of  New  York,  which  enil)races  the  commercial  emporium 
of  the  first  and  third  cities  of  the  nation,  havinj;  an  a}j;}jregate  popula- 
tion of  about  two  million  five  hundred  ihousaml.  Nor  is  this  a  full 
statement  of  the  case;  as,  if  to  this  account  were  added  the  actual 
excess  of  surface  measurements  of  this  peculiarly  broken  region  over 
those  relatively  level  eastern  ones,  it  would  certainly  exceed  that  of 
Connecticut,  4845  miles,  and,  with  the  adjacent  Goblin-Land  and 
other  rej^ions  which  I  have  explored  during  the  past  two  seasons, 
fully  etjual  that  of  New  Jersoy,  Massachusetts,  or  several  other  of  the 
original  States  of  the  Union. 

This  necessarily  lengthy  explanation  of  the  first  question  as  to  the 
magnitude  of  the  Park  so  nearly  disposes  of  the  second,  as  to  the 
name,  that  I  only  add  that,  although  it  is  so  vast  and  broken  by 
mountains  and  canons  into  countless  partially  or  wholly  isolated  parks 
and  valleys,  still  the  whole  of  it  is  nearly  encircled  by  snowy  moun- 
tains with  few  passes,  being  thus  park-like  in  character,  and  the  name 
correct,  or  at  least  difficult  to  substitute  by  one  more  appropriate. 

The  size  and  character  of  tJiis  work,  together  with  the  various 
poems  and  copious  notes  descriptive  of  many  of  the  features  and 
.legends  of  the  Wonder-  and  the  Goblin-Lands,  precludes  extending 
the  loregoing  outlines  of  the  Park,  and  hence  I  close  this  necessary 
prelude  to  our  guide  of  routes  with  a  few  practical  suggestions  for 
those  desirous  of  a  charming  ramble  amid  the  countless  marvels  of 
this  national  heritage  of  wonders. 

Neither  the  routes,  modes  of  conveyance,  nor  hotel  accommoda- 
tions of  the  Park  as  yet  equal  those  of  our  eastern  homes,  nor  is  it 
necessary  or  even  desirable  for  the  health  or  enjoyment  of  tourists, 
the  most  of  whom  in  little  groups  of  kindred  or  friends  seek  a  sea- 
son of  variety  and  romantic  privation  in  the  snowy  pass,  the  flowery 
park,  or  secluded  glen  of  nature's  unpolluted  solitudes  as  a  refuge 
from  the  duties  of  office,  the  dictates  of  fashion,  or  as  a  cheering, 
healthful  solace  from  ceaseless  toil  or  corroding  care. 

OUTFIT. 

From  long  and  trying  border  experience  I  can  vouch  that  stimu- 
lants are  not  neces:jviy  but  baneful, — buoyant  hope  and  the  azone  of 
pure  mountain  air  are  matchless  tonics  and  appetizers  ;  but  none  who 


GUIDE-BOOK  OF   TUE  PARK. 


241 


oulfit  tlitnist'lves  may  fear  to  prDvidc  houiitifully  of  tea,  coffee,  lui- 
tiitiinis  food,  canned  milk,  anil  fruit,  as  well  as  warm,  strong  woollen 
clotliinj,',  blankets,  shawls,  •■tc.,  and  I Ji en  double  the  oiitjlt.  Few  will 
regret  relying  upon  this  advice. 

Heretofore  it  has  been  necessary  to  arrange  before  arrival  for  some 
reliable  guide  with  tents,  wagons,  saddle-  and  pack-animals,  and 
other  outfit  and  provisions  not  brought  by  themselves.  This,  although 
l)erhaps  judicious  for  those  who  have  time  and  opportnnity,  is  now 
less  essential,  as  I  learn  that  from  Livingston,  upon  their  main  line, 
just  below  the  Gale  of  the  Mountains,  a  branch  road  will  be  com- 
pleted through  it  and  amid  llie  enchanting  scenery  of  the  parks  and 
canons  of  the  Yellowstone,  50  miles  to  the  mouth  of  the  Gardiner,  4 
miles  below  the  Mammoth  Hot  Springs,  and  a  hotel  there,  and  else- 
where in  the  I'ark,  in  time  for  this  season's  rush  of  tourists. 

The  following  letter  from  the  General  Passenger  and  Ticket  Agent 
of  the  Norlhern  Pacilic  Railroad  Company  gives  all  the  facts  tJiat  are 
obtainable  at  this  date: 


"  NoKTHF.KN  Pacific  Railroad  Company. 
"Genehal  Passenger  and  Ticket  Department. 

"St.  Paul,  Minn.,  April  12,  1883. 
"  P.  W.  NoRRis,  Norris,  Michigan. 

"Dear  Sir, — Replying  to  yoi  of  April  10,  it  is  impossible  to 
give  the  detailed  information  yni  ilesire  regarding  the  accommoda- 
tions in  the  Park  at  this  early  dat'  1  can  say  approximately  that  the 
rate  from  St.  Paul  to  the  Mammoth  Hot  Springs  will  be  ninet\  dollars 
for  the  round  trip,  and  that  the  rates  for  transportation  in  the  Park  will 
be  about  twelve  cents  per  mile.  Our  branch  will  be  built  and  opeii  o 
the  Park  abouf.  the  ist  of  July.  A  large  force  of  men  is  now  employed 
on  the  line  building  it. 

"  One  large  hotel  wii!  be  built  at  the  Mammoth  Hot  Springs,  and 
smaller  ones  at  Lower  Gtyser  Basin,  Upper  Geyser,  Great  Fal!     and' 
Lake  Outlet.     Ponies,  attciKlants,  bath-houses,  and  appu-'d     ,ces  of 
like  nature  will  be  established  in  connection  with  the  hotels  and  stntre 
line, 

"  Yours,  etc., 

"G.  K.  BARNES, 

"6\  P.  &=  T.  a:' 
ho  31 


343 


GUIDEBOOK  OF  THE   PARK. 


TROrER  SEASON  OE   THE   YEAR   EOR   A   TOUR   OF 

THE   PARK. 

The  best  of  all  niontlis  is  Aiij,nist,  then  July,  tlie  fir^.t  half  of  Sep- 
tember, last  lialf  of  June,  the  most  (>f  October  and  May,  in  the 
order  named. 

The  fogs,  rains,  and  floods  from  melting  snows  in  early  June,  and 
the  equinoctial  snowstorm  of  Se])tend)er,  are  sure  and  fearful.  July 
and  August  uniforndy  fnie,  the  remainder  of  'he  year  changeable, 
and  successive  seasons  \  arying  greatly. 

No  future  danger  from  Indians  or  aninnls;  no  rattlesnakes  or 
other  venomous  reptiles  ;  gadflies  often  troublesome  upon  animals  in 
June  and  July,  but  mosquitoes  far  less  annoying  than  along  the  rivers 
en  route. 

TIME   NECESSAPY  FOR  A   TRIP   OF  THE   PARK. 

This  depends  much  upon  the  health,  means,  taste,  and  leisure  of 
each  person  or  party.  A  week  of  dash  and  jam  in  the  Park  will 
allow  a  glance  at  the  main  geyser-basins,  Mammoth  Hot  Springs, 
Mount  Washburn,  Forks,  Canon,  Falls  and  Lake  of  the  Yellowstone, 
and  other  points  of  interest  en  route.  Ten  days  are  better,  and 
fifteen  ample  for  a  fair  tour  of  all  ihe  Park  now  opened  up  to  roads 
and  bridle-paths,  while  a  mountain  sun^'  .er  of  three  months  can  be 
most  pleasantly  and  healthfully  spent  ..i  the  viewing  and  exploration 
of  the  Wonder-  and  Goblin-Lands  for  years  to  come,  as  between  the 
Yellowstone  Lake  and  the  Big-horn  River  is  one  of  the  wildest, 
roughest,  inaccessible,  leas*  known,  and  vet  interesting  regions  of  the 
United  States. 

COST  OF  A  TRIP  TO  AND  THROUGHOUT  THE  PARK. 

This  also,  after  leaving  the  railroad,  is  subject  to  variations  similar 
to  those  of  time,  and  dependent  much  upon  them. 

I  have  no  information  of  essential  change  in  the  old  rates  of  five 
dollars  each  for  a  guide  and  packer  widi  his  saddle-horse,  or  ten  dol- 
lars for  two  men  and  their  animals,  and  one  dollar  per  tiny  for  each 
additional  saddle-  or  pack-animal.  The  additional  '  iilfit,  board,  etc., 
if  any,  as  the   parties  mutually  agree,  which,   lu  avoid  annoyance 


GUIDE-BOOK  OF   THE  PARK. 


243 


fliirliiKtlic  trip  niul  at  its  close,  should  be  clearly  understood  in  writing 
befDre  its  coninienceujcnt. 

Should  the  mining  developments  of  these  mountain  regions  e(|ual 
present  indications,  a  railroad  will  reach  the  Park  from  the  Knst  via 
Clarke's  Forks  Mines  or  the  Two-Ocean  Pass,  or  both  of  them,  as 
well  as  the  Virginia  City  bianch  of  the  Utah  Northern  from  Dillon 
within  a  few  years  hereafter,  each  road  increasing  accessibility  and 
inviting  a  healthy  competition  for  the  patronage  of  tourists  in  making 
'•■  cheap,  rapid,  and  easy  visit  to  the  Wonder-Land;  jilanning  it  as 
the  turning-point,  as  well  as  the  main  region  of  attraction,  in  a  sea- 
son's ramble  for  health  and  enjoyment. 

Siiould  these  anticipations  be  realized  a  visit  to  the  Park  will  be- 
come national  in  character  and  popular  with  our  people,  so  that  ere 
long  the  flush  of  shame  will  tinge  the  cheeks  of  Americans  who  are 
obliged  to  acknowledge  that  they  loiter  along  tl  e  antiquated  paths  lo 
pigmy  haunts  of  other  lands  before  seeking  health,  pleasure,  and  the 
soul-expanding  delights  of  a  season's  ramble  amid  the  peerless  snow- 
and  cliff-encircled  marvels  of  their  own. 


CHOICE  OF  LOOKOUTS. 

Prominent  among  the  bordering  points  cf  observation  of  this  vast 
region  is  Flcctric  Peak,  near  the  northwestern  border,  elevation 
11,775  feet;  Mount  Norris  in  the  northeast,  10,019;  Mounts  Chit- 
tenden, Hoyt,  Langford,  Stephenson,  and  others  in  the  eastern 
Sierra  Shoshone  border,  and  Mounts  Holmes  and  Bell's  Peak  upon 
the  western,  ranging  between  10,000  and  11,000  feet  high,  and 
Mount  Sheridan,  near  the  southern  border,  10,385  feet  high,  still 
backed  by  the  Grand  Teton,  landmark  of  all  those  mountain  regions, 
which  is  over  13,000  feet  in  height.  But  Mount  Washburn,  towering 
upon  the  brink  of  the  yawning  Grand  Canon  water-way  of  the  Yel- 
lowstone Falls  and  Lake,  10,340  feet  high,  is  the  most  central,  ac- 
cessible, and  commanding  for  a  general  view  of  the  Park  and  its 
surroundings.  From  its  isolated  summit  can  be  plainly  seen  on  a 
fair  day,  as  upon  aji  open  map,  not  only  this  lake  and  canon  but 
many  others  also,  countless  flowery  parks  and  valleys,  misty  sulphur 
and  steaming  geyser-basins,  dark  pine  and  lir-clad  slopes,  broken 
foot-hills,  craggy  cliffs,  and  snowy  summits  of  the  sundering  and 
surrounding  mountains.     No  tourist  should  fail  in  securing  this  en- 


244 


GVIDE-IWOK  OF  THE  PARK, 


i' 


J-^^ 


cliiinlin^'  view,  the  best  plan  of  obtaining,'  wliiili  is,  ui)nii  rc:ifhin<» 
tlu'  intaii(li'tiii{^  lisiiltt-rcd  l.iwns  of  llic  Cascadf,  the  (Hade  or  llic 
Aiil(.lo|)L'  CicL'lis,  to  j^o  into  camp  and  awail  tlie  dawn  of  a  cdoiidloss 
siinuncr's  nioinin^.  'I'lun  to  the  scientist,  tin:  artist,  or  ilic  poi't,  and 
to  the  weary  and  worn  pi!>;riius  of  lieallh  and  pleasure  from  our  own 
and  other  lands,  ardent  to  secure  the  acme  of  mountain-climhiiij; 
enjoyment,  or  in  viewing'  tlie  lovely  parks  and  yawning;  canons,  the 
crests  of  j;listcnin<^  ice  and  vales  of  blistering  brimstone,  the  records 
of  (ire  and  flood,  the  evidences  of  marvellous  eruptions  and  erosions 
of  the  i)resent  and  the  past,  and  day-dreams  of  the  future  in  the 
commingling  purgatory  and  paradise  of  the  peerless  Wonder-I,and 
of  earth,  I  would  say  leisurely  ascend  the  terraced  slopes  of  Mount 
Washburn,  and  from  its  oval  sunnnit,  with  throbbing  heart  but  fear- 
less eye  and  soul  expanding,  I()oI<  around  you.  One  day  thus  spent 
would  more  adecpiately  impress  the  mind  with  the  magnitude  and 
marvels  of  the  Park,  and  the  vast  amount  of  exploration  and  research 
necessary  in  finding  routes,  and  the  enormous  amount  of  labor  and 
liardship  unavoidable  in  the  construction  ol  buildings,  roads,  bridle- 
paths, trails,  and  other  improvements,  even  when  unmolested  by  hos- 
tile Indians, — as  during  the  jiast  two  years  only, — than  a  jjcrusal  of 
all  the  reports  and  maps  of  the  Park  which  have  ever  been  pub- 
lished. 

HEADQUARTERS   OF  THE    PARK. 

The  loophole-turretcd  and  triple-winged  block-house  Headquarters 
of  the  Park  crowns  the  summit  of  an  oblong  grassy  Initte  or  hill  150 
feet  above  the  cedar  grove,  a  portion  of  which,  as  shown  in  the  illus- 
tration, is  still  standing,  submerged  and  semi-fossilized  by  deposits 
from  the  mineral  waters  of  the  main  active  Mammoth  Hot  Springs, 
which  rise  in  inimitably  beautiful  scollop-bordered  pools  and  bril- 
lia'itly-tinted  pearly-white  terraces  directly  fronting,  and  to  an  eleva- 
tion greater  than  the  balcony  of  the  Headquarters,  Thence  through 
the  shifting  clouds  of  vapor  ever  escaping  from  these  uni([ue  fountains, 
the  active,  the  dying,  the  dead  cedar-fringed  and  crumbling,  then  the 
dark  pine  and  balsam-hidden  pools  and  terraces  vise  successively  as 
they  recede  to  the  most  anoient  and  once  powerful  of  the  now  ex- 
tinct craters  or  cones  upon  the  summit  of  the  Terrace  Mountain, 
which  much  of  the  year  jiresenls  an  f)Utline  of  snow  amid  the  clouds. 
Almost  beneath  this  building,  to   the    right,  are   seen   the   famous 


CUlDE-nCOK  OF  THE   IWRK. 


245 


I-ihcrty-Cap  cnimlilinj^  cone  of  an  extinct  i)ulsatin^j  j^'oyscr, 45  feet 
lii^^h,  tlie  I)evil\  1  liunil),  sonicwlint  sniixller,  niuncrous  raj,'(4e(l  cdtjed 


./■I. 


'?5L"i'!iliife^^^ 


--•<■■■••■■■■■' As WJ   ■    , 


•■^^:S?S 


-"■<«i. 


*•=-  t  >    •         ,».   tiili  •.-•'* -^^■.■=«i:-^-9»*^' 

■•'l5":    '■  ''    '.:•."' ^  .^•' -'*'   .r:  iii^ 

^-r-^wS^^ 


ESS#e.-, 


-'   -^tJ 


MAMMOTH    1101    STRINCS. 


pits  of  ancient  pools,  nearly  as  deep,  the  sinks  of  two  cold-water 
creeks,  the  ISIc^'artney  buildings  upon,  and  the  grassy  slopes  and 
craggy  summits  of  the  Sepulchre  Mountain  above  them. 

To  the  left  the  clear-cut  sky-line  of  the  White  Clifls,  and  eroded 

2pv 


»1 

I 

11 


2^6 


GUIDE  HOOK  OF  THE   P.tA'A'. 


jjorj^c  of  llic  Wi'^l  (j.inliiicr  jii>t  Id  llic  li^lil,  llic  pino-clad  cone  of 
JUiiison's  iViik  to  its  left,  tlio  yawning  cnflon  aiul  luisaltic  clifl's  of  the 
Middle  (lardiiK-r,  ami  still  laillur  to  llif  Ull  tlio  nearly  vertical  walls 
and  battlements  above  the  dduMe  (alls,  anil  beyond  them  the  silvery 
thread  of  the  Cascades  of  the  Mast  (Jardiner,  with  the  Mmint  StejOuns 
ranj^e  in  the  back;,'ronnd,  are  a!l  in  clear  and  untlistiirbed  view.  'l"o 
the  rear  the  tiescent  is  continuous  and  olteii  terraced  or  precipitous 
lor  fully  a  mile  to  the  Main  Clanliner,  and  line  trout-lishin^  from  the 
shelly  ^eyserite  roof  of  a  subterranean  river,  to  where  its  scethinj^ 
waters,  in  volume  sufficient  for  a  thie  mill-stream,  fdled  with  the 
lloatin;;  vej^etation  peculiar  to  these  hot  mineral  streams,  runs  for 
some  distance  beside  the  cold  snow-fed  waters  of  the  (Jardiner  before 
commingling.  'Ihis  is  at  the  base  of  the  nearly  vertical  walls  of  Mi>unt 
Kvarls,  (ully  2000  feet  hij^h,  through  a  spur  of  which  is  a  yawning 
water-way  to  the  foaminj;  Yellowstone  near  the  iJear  Gulch  drainay;e 
of  the  jfold  and  silver  mines  adjacent.     (See  notes  53  to  56.) 

To  this  point  ascends  the  roail  from  the  railrwad  below,  and  from 
it  radiate  those  up  the  Ettsf  Ganiincr  towards  the  forks  and  falls  of 
the  Yellowstone,  that  over  the  Terraec  Pass  to  the  Geyser  or  Eire- 
J/ole  liiisins  and  Yelhnostotie  Lake,  and  also  a  bridle  path  between 
Himsen^s  Peak  and  the  Falls  of  the  Middle  Gardiner,  via  the  Shcep- 
Katcr  cliffs  to  its  junction  with  the  Geyser  roail     jar  .Swan  Lake. 

MIDDLE   GARDINLK    IJRIDLL-l'.VriL 

This  bridlepath  rmile  offers  at  least  one  day  of  ramble  among  points 
of  exceeding  interest,  and  will  be  fust  described. 

The  route  selected  for  a  future  road  follows  that  now  in  use  for 
hauling  timber  to  its  end  ;  llu'uce,  via  a  cascade  just  below  the  im- 
passable portion  of  the  canon  of  the  West  Gardiner;  thence,  deflect- 
ing to  the  left,  ascends  by  a  uniform  grade  along  the  timbered  slopes 
of  IJunsen's  Peak  to  the  present  bridle-path  below  the  falls  of  the 
Middle  Gardiner.  Along  and  between  this  route  and  the  vertical 
White  Cliffs,  among  the  immense  masses  of  upturned  angular  rocks 
there  hurled  from  the  cliffs,  is  one  of  the  wildest  thicket-hidden 
haunts  of  grouse,  rabbits,  and  hares,  as  well  as  of  bear,  wf)lf,  and 
wolverine,  which  I  have  ever  visited,  even  afoot,  in  which  way  only 
the  most  of  it  can  be  traversed. 


GUIDE- HOOK  OF   THE  PARK, 


i47 


The  bridle-iKitli,  as  now  Iravi-lKvl,  leaves  tliis  r  i.kI  near 
the  e(l;;e  ol  llit-  tiinltor,  ami  rn»ssii\^  the  deep  valUy 
of  the  West  (i  irdiner,  aseondi  sUaddy,  sonKiiines 
steeply,  near  2cx)o  feet  to  tlie  sinninit  of  the  ten  »cc 
lielwet-n  nini".en's  IVak  and  tin-  yaw  i\in;^'  eantn  of 
llie  Miildle  (iaiiliner,  three  nulvs  from  the  Head- 
(|ii  irters. 

Near  tliis  point  a  trail  hia/.ed  throiij^h  the  sin:dl  pines 
anil  aspens  leaiis  within  lialf  a  mile  to  IJiitier's 
l/)okout,  on  the  ed;;e  of  a  chtf  ri->in;,'  fully  looo  feet 
(roni  the  winding  thread  of  silver,  ahoiu  half  a  niilo 
below  tlu"  falls.  This  tdiff,  thouL,di  at  so  j^ieat  a  dis- 
tance and  elevation  from  the  faUs,  is  the  host  point 
from  which  to  obtain  a  <,'oo(l  view  of  the  nearly  200- 
feet  leap,  and  also  of  the  terrible  canon  and  loom- 
iiiLj  clilifs  of  basalt,  portions  of  wnich  are  unicjuely 
radiate  or  fan -shaped. 

Ketuinin.Lj  to  the  main  bridlepath,  and  passinjj  ihroui;!) 
alternate  ^(laile  and  ^rove  for  a  mile,  we  reach  the 
brink  between  the  falls  and  the  Sheep-lvUer  ('liir>, 
which  extend  a  distance  of  2  miles,  in  one  portion 
of  which  they  wall  in  a  secluded  lovely  little  haunt 
of  the  Sheip-lCater  Indians,  and  hence  the  name 
and  description  at  the  time  of  its  discovery.  (See 
paj^es  10  and  il  of  niy  report  of  1S79.)  . 

The  trail  skirts  these  cliffs  less  than  a  mile,  and  then 
ihrouj^h  aspen  },'roves  and  sed^y  glades  to  its  inter- 
section of  the  Fire-IIole  ro.id  south  of  Swan  Lake, 
from  which  ])oint  it  is  about  6  miles  by  each  route 
to  the  Ileadipiarters        ...... 

Punseu's  Peak  can  be  ascended  mainly  upon  horse- 
back from  the  terrace  of  great  sai^c-brush  from  the 
southwestern  side. 

In  the  dense  thickets  of  small  pines  skirtinjf  the  west- 
ern foot  of  this  peak  are  the  ilecayinjf  remains  of  an 
ancient  drive  way  of  the  Sheep-lCaters,  and  the  ruins 
of  one  of  their  pole  coverts  for  arrow-shooting  is  still 
standing  just  back  of  the  verge  of  the  cliff,  a  little 
southeasterly  from  the  Rustic  Falls.  These  are 
whei'e  the  West  (lardincr,  after  meandering  through 
a  grassy  |ilain  nearly  to  its  border,  glicies  some  40  or 
50  feet  down  a  m:)ssy  rock,  so  smooth,  so  placid, 
and  so  noiselessly  as  to  present  to  one  standing  afoot 
or  upon  horseback,  as  can  easily  and  safely  be  done 
upon  its  very  margin  of  mist-nourished  ferns  and 
llowers,  a  contrast  unirpie  and  matchless  to  the  suc- 
ceeding 1500  feet  of  dashing,  foaming  descent  adown 
a  ragged  caiion  water-way  in  ma<fnilude  immensely 


MIkx. 


MilM. 


34$ 


GUiDLliOOK  OJ'    JJJ/-:   J'.IA'A: 


too  lar^'c  for  lli.\t  imw  llowiiij,'  llirro,  aiiil  iinpassiihlc 
fur  any  hut  an  cxpcriciicfil  inoiintaiiu'er  aft>«>t. 
I'ldin  tlii'st'  falls  (iiur  may,  l)y  lanliil  liiliii;,'  iiorlli 
trly  witliiii  a  mile,  nacli  the  siiiiimil  ol  tl>o  'i'ci  • 
race  Mountain,  tread  the  IcrriMy  frailuretl  vei|»e 
of  the  While  ClilVs,  view  the  ant  ienl  ronis  of  ex- 
tinct geysers,  ohlain  i  luhanlin^  view  of  our  valley, 
liuildin^s,  and  the  Mannnoih  llol  Spring's  at  our 
feet,  the  snowy  crests  of  Kleclric,  Holmes's,  and 
Hell's  I'eaks  in  tlie  north  and  southwest,  and  also 
on  a  fair  ihiy  the  icy  peaks  of  the  Three  Tetons, 
niorc  than  ICX)  miles  away  in  the  soutluTn  hori/on. 
We  thence  descend  northwesterly  ahove  and  then 
tlndUj,d»  the  Terrace  I'ass  to  the  Ileadiinarters.  This 
trip,  allhiiuj;h  so  interestinj,',  is  one  of  only  \o  or  12 
miles  in  distance,  a  very  ea-.y  day's  ride,  and  can  be 
made  in  much  less. 

ROAD   TO  THE   GKVSER-BASINS. 

From  the  j^uide-hoard,  near  the  Devil's  Thumb,  ascend 
the  soft  sinter  terrace  to  the  left,  and  by  a  windin;^ 
way  and  some  steej)  j^rades  pass  above,  and  ovcr- 
loi>kinj^  the  blue,  active  Hot  Sprinj^'s,  and  over  or 
rmnii^  the  crumblini;  or  forest overj^rown  ancient 
cones  and  terraces  to  the  summit  of  Terrace  Pass    . 

Half  a  mile  of  slij^ht  descent,  short  tuin  to  the  left, 
and  then  throu^^h  an  o\)cn  lawn-like  valUy,  j;oo(l 
waier  and  camps  to  Swan  Lake  on  the  rij,dit    . 

Less  than  a  mile  back,  a  half-inilc  side  trip  to  the  left 
and  sharj^  notch  at  the  liead  of  canon,  a  good  view 
of  the  Rustic  Kalis,  Sheep-Kater  covert  on  the 
cliff,  and  old  camp  of  these  Sheei)-Eaters  in  the 
valley. 

liridj^e  over  the  Middle  Gardiner       .         .         .         . 

One  mile  above  is  the  mouth  of  Indian  Creek,  which 
the  hostile  Hannocks  de  .cended  from  the  pass  be- 
tween Holmes's  and  Bell's  I'eaks,  and  at  their  camp 
l)clwcen  the  streams,  just  below,  slaughtered  a  large 
number  of  captured  horses  for  food  in  1878. 

A  hue  ride  of  5  miles  and  return  will  allow  a  g(Jod 
A  lew  of  Bell's  I'eak,  fine  valleys  and  streams,  du^ 
110  fish. 

Cross  and  then  ascend  Obsidian  Creek  to  the  bridge  at 
upper  end  of  Willow  Park,  and  first  night's  camp; 
water  plentiful,  but  only  passable;  w(;od  and  grass 
abundant  and  excellent  ...... 

Opposite  the  lower  end  of  some  slide  rock  on  the  right 


Miles.     Mll«f. 


2V, 


V/2 


VA 


II 


(JLlDi:  HOOK  OF  THE   IWRK, 


249 


it. 


VA 


nrc  two  ^priiips  of  ifi'cnltl  wnlcr,  the  last,  except  the 
indillcliiil  w.iU  r  nl  ihe  Lake  ol  the  SVihkIh,  which 
it  palat.ilile  or  sale  Id  use  fur  5  iiiileH 

Uii<l;;i'  and  loD^  causeway  to  Olisidian  CUfTs  nud 
lU'.iM  r  l.^ke  ,..,.... 

'Ihi-  );iade  lielwi'cn  thiui  was  maih-  liy  huilinj;  dry 
pines  fioiu  the  cliU  lur  etninenee  tires  tofrai  ture  the 
iiii^tr  lilurks  (>r  uati\  i'  j;l.iss,  and  then  puundin^  them 
di'wn  with  slcdj^es,  in  1S78. 

The  hest  of  the  red,  yelhiw,  or  handed  ppcciniens  of 
ohsidi.in  ari-  near  the  font  of  lire  vertical  clilf  at  the 
.south  end  of  llie  j;rade.  iJeaver  Lake  was  made  hy 
these  animals,  whose  dams  and  houses  are  still  to 
he  seen  at  various  places  upon  it. 

'I'he  naked  estuary  looking  he.uh  near  the  ujiper  end 
of  tiiis  lake  is  caused  hy  poisonous  water  from  Crccii 
Creek,  which  is  to  he  seen  at  the  rij^ht     . 

Lon^  ^rade  ahove  a  nauseous  hrinisione  hasin  on  tlie 
rii^ht,  then  a  line  view  of  Mount  Holmes  and  Hell's 
Peak  to  the  iiortliwest  from  the  (h;'in;\j;e  divide  of  the 
Yellowstone  and  Madison  fork  of  the  Missouri,  then 
n  slij^ht  descent  to  the  Lake  of  the  Woods,  thus  ap- 
jiropriately  named  at  the  lime  of  its  discovery,  when 
1  was  searching'  for  water  \\liich  was  not  poisonous 
for  one  of  my  men,  severely  injured  hy  the  fall  of 
his  hovse  in  a  hear-lij^ht  ..... 

Several  nauseous  tire-holes  to  an  open  valley;  good 
wood,  water,  and  camps  in  the  Norris  Valley  . 

IJridj^e  over  Noiris  fork  and  nearest  camp  to  the 
Norris  Cleyser  15asin        ...... 

Unitpiely  heautilul  hlue  Mmerald  Pool  just  to  tlic  left 
v)f  the  road  on  the  second  hill         .... 

The  j^rcat  cloud  of  steam  to  the  left  is  from  the  New 
Crater,  the  outburst  of  which  I  witnessed,  as  shown 
in  my  report  of  1S78,  which  is  now  a  powerful 
geyser  of  erratic  habits  antl  irregular  ])eri()ds  ttf  erup- 
tion of  its  column  of  waters,  which  is  sometimes 
100  feet  hij^h,  but  usually  much  less  At  the  foot 
of  the  hill  beyond  the  ^linute-Man,  with  regular 
spurts  of  20  or  30  feet,  and  200  yards  south,  in  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  is  the  Monarch,  which  daily  throws 
one  vertical  and  two  diagonal  columns  of  hot  water 
about  too  feet  high,  with  riind)!iiigs  which  shake 
the  valley,  until  a  creek  of  hot  water  lor  a  lime  bars 
all  travel  upon  the  road. 

The  Vixen,  Constant,  and  many  others  are  very  interest- 
ing, as  also  the  finest  jilateau  of  boiling  ])ools,  and 
uniipn-  porcelain-like  rims  to  funnels  to  be  found 


Mllet. 

I 
I 


Milui. 
12 


3 
I 


14 


15 
17 
20 
21 


85© 


CUIDli-IiOOK  OF  Tin:  VAKK, 


in  till-  r.irk.  I  lie  roml  could  not  l>o  built  tlirou^'li 
Uiu  iiiiiiilli;  <>r  (lii<i  IkihIii,  nuuli  of  which,  tow.ii'ds 
tin-  iMiilhwi'st  svliiio  I  111  4  ili->ci»vcic«l  it  iu  1X75,  \y> 
>lill  uiR-x|il'<u'<|,  :iiii|  altliou^li  tMic  ol  the  uldcst, 
largest,  iitnl  pnthatily  oiicc  |Hi\vcrlul  in  the  Park, 
liii  w.iut  i)f  w.iiir  or  otiur  cauir  has  not  now  as 
111. my  |io\virlul  geysers  as  llic  U|>|>fr  (Jry-icr  liusin. 

'riiiou^ji  the  halancc-  of  this  basin  ujion  tlu:  road,  nnd 
a  fliii^i"  pine  furisl  lo  a  line  cainp  to  llu;  left  of  the 
mouth  ol  the  lnd)l>le-covered  (ieyser  C!rei'k     . 

This  is  one  ot  Ihu  most  charmingly  secluded  parks 
and  ramp  of  the  mountains,  and  from  the  acccssi- 
hiiily  ol  ilie  rasi  ades  and  red  pulsating  geysers  in 
the  canon  of  the  Norris  I'ork  I  |i  miles  above,  the  nu- 
iiunius  l.dv»s,  the  m  iti  hie-.-.  I'ainf  I'ot-.  and  geysers 
to  ilie  south,  ami  the  Moiuinunt  (iey:-.i.'r  Kasin  upon 
Mount  Seliur/.  toihe  west,  must  ever  remain  a  lavoritu 
eani|iin^-place,  the  only  diawbaeU  beinj,'  the  water, 
wliuii,  only  palatable  above,  is  utterly  unfit  for  use 
below  the  mouth  ol"  (Jeyser  ('reek. 

The  only  j^ood  water  attainable  is  in  the  Gilibon, 
which  is  a  cold,  snow  lei  I  stream  iVoin  Mount 
Holmes  to  its  cunlUience  with  the  Norris  fork,  cne 
mile  above. 

I'Vom  this  place  we  ran  aw.ij^on.ns  far  as  possible  with 
animals,  then  with  men,  tow.inls  the  famous  (Jeyser 
Coiu',  now  in  the  National  Mu-ieum  in  Washington, 
\sliiih  was  nearly  twt)  miles,  by  a  circuitous  route, 
to  the  loot  of  the  bluffs  beyond  the  Taint- Pots. 
Tlure  it  reipiired  a  bl  u  ksinitli  freipiently  sharpen- 
iiij;  tool-.,  a  man  to  as-.i^i  in  drilling;  and  chiselliii}^, 
and  anotlur  to  cany  and  throw  cold  water  upon 
them  to  prevent  p.irboiliiiL;  in  the  hot  steam  and 
jel»  lr»)in  it-,  seventeen  tine  puNaliiii;  cones  or  orihces 
lor  ne.uiy  a  week,  and  then  twenty  men  to  carry  it 
amid  the  boltonde^s  boilinj;  chaldrons  to  thewajjon, 
and  thence  it  was  conveyed  safely  lo  Washington, 
.ilihou.nh  wci^hin^  nearly  half  a  ton. 

\    bridle-path    extends    from    the    end    of   this    road 

'uoui^h  the  eartlKpiake  shakes  and  fallen  timber — 

II  mile->  in  all — lo  Willow  Creek  Camp,  upon  the 

llast  I'ire-llole  River;  but  it  is  unsafe  to  altempt  lo 

tollow  it  withuui  a  j;uide. 

In  a  hor>eshoe  bend  of  the  (libbon,  near  the  lower 
emi  of  this  ]>.uk,  we  fortified  our  camp,  while  I 
exploreil  the  country,  and  we  opened  our  road 
throuj;h  the  canon  of  the  Gibbon  during  the  iJan- 
nocU  raid  of  1S7S. 


Mile*. 


MIIm. 


24 


* 


O'l/n/:  /iOOA'  OF  THE   r.\KK\ 


IM 


I<'i)i)(  liri(l(;e  over  ihc  Oililton  at  llic  lifad  of  llu- 
L.llVlll 

Ascent  iif  Muiiiit  Schiiiv.  to  tlio  niatiliK'Hs  cones  nu<l 
cliiuinin^'  view  iVoiu  the  Moiiuiiiciil  (JryHcr  \\.\s\\\ 
niid  river,  eai  h  1-2. 

Two  'jrx-tnin^H  of  llie  (iil)li(  li  in  it<«(iranil  CiHon,  aniiil 
linivy  l)oilin^'  pools,  and  thence  tliiotij4li  u|ien  pine 
j;roves  upon  llu;  plateau  Intween  the  aniiiut  chan- 
nel of  the  (iil>l)on  on  the  Kit,  and  its  inodcin  canon 
lorn  thron^h  the  spur  of  a  mountain  to  the  ri^^hi 
to  its  Solid  lalli,  many  hundnds  of  lett  lulow 
the  road  ........ 

Uniform  descent  to  the  old  channel  of  the  (iihiion  at 
C'.ifton  Creek  . 

Good  water  and  fuel,  hut  the  only  cnnip  for  miles  is 
one  half  mile  up  the  creek  hefore  crossing,  wheic 
Wood  and  water  are  line  and  abundant,  hut  j^rass 
inferior  in  (piatity,  j^round  I'oj^^y,  and  uns.ile  lor 
picket-pins. 

Xmw^  ^rade,  then  open  pine  proves  and  hurneil  tract 
to  the  Martlxpiake  (  litis  ..... 

The  old  road  of  1S7S  passes  below  these  clifVs  to  the 
Madison  Canon  route. 

Dry,  open  route  to  the  intersection  with  tlic  old  Madi- 
son Carton  road,  and  thence  to  Lookout  Terrace, 
where  we  j^et  the  liisl  view  of  the  steam-cloud-, 
from  the  ICxcelsior  and  other  ;^eysers  of  the  I'ire- 
Hole  Valley,  stietcliin;;  away  tu  the  hhu.-  foot  hills 
of  the  main  Kocky  M<junlaiiis  just  beyond  the  Up- 
per Ifasin        ........ 

Easy  descent  and  fine  road  beside  the  broad  grassy 
channel  of  the  Mailison  ;  always  full  and  stldmn 
overllowed  to  lis  he. id  at  I  he  cotillucnce,  or,  as 
called,  Forks  of  the  I'ire-llole  Kiver;  and  thence 
fo  Prospect  Point  at  the  crosNin^  of  the  Kast  I'ork   . 

Near  this  j)oint  are  now  some  rude  government  build- 
ings, and  from  it  roads  diverge  as  follows : 


Mllm. 


n;iic». 


25 


}i 


2;; 


.{•! 


34 


.^7 


DILLON,  ON  THE  NDKTIIKRN  UTAH  RAIL- 
ROAD,   VIA    in.NRVS    LAKK    AND    VI R 
CINIA  CITY,  OR  RKVLRSINC;  TDK  ROU'IK. 

Dillon  to  Virginia  City,  daily  coach  .... 

Henry's   Lake,  iiire<l    conveyance,  good    li-.hing   and 
camp      ......... 

Riversitlc,  within  the  Park,  good  fishing  and  camp     . 


60 
22 


I  147 


I  f^ 


252 


GUIDE-BOOK  OF   TJ/F.    P.lh'A'. 


Lookout  Cliffs  anil  lovely  view  of  mountains  and  val- 
leys        ......... 

MnisI  all's  Hotel,  near  tlic  forks  of  the  Fire-IIoles     . 

Kxeellent  fords  of  both  fork>.  to  I'rospeit  Point 

The  route  of  60  or  70  miles  from  Henry's  Lake  down 
its  fork  to  Camas,  or  to  lieaver  Cafion,  on  the 
Norlliern  Utah  Railroad,  is  an  old  and  natural  one, 
but  no  inhabitants  and  little  travelled. 

OLD  MADISON  CANON  ROAD. 

Prospect  Point  to  the  mouth  of  the  Gibbon,  good  camp 

and  fl^hing     ........ 

Five  fords  of  the  Mailisoii  in  its  canon,  good  camp 

and  fishing     ........ 

Down  the  river  to  Riverside,  good   camp  and  fishing 
From  this  point  there  is  a  somewliat  shorter,  newer, 

and  n)Ugher  route  down    the   Madison   canons  to 

Virginia  City. 

QUEEN'S  LAUNDRY  ROAD. 

This  was  opened  and  our  camp  made  at  the  foot  of  the 
Northern  Cliffs  to  the  Geyser  Meadows,  from  which, 
by  a  steep  bridle-path,  we  reached  our  line  of  road, 
while  constructing  it  amid  the  old  snow-tields  on  the 
Madison  Plateau  to  the  Lookout  Cliffs,  late  in  Julv, 
1880. 

It  was  while  thus  engaged  that,  during  a  Sabl)ath's 
rest  and  bathing  recreation,  some  of  the  boys  crossed 
from  our  camp  to  the  attractive  bordered  pools 
below  this  great  boiling  fciuitain,  and  in  one 
cool  enough  for  bathing  discovered  its  matchless 
cleansing  proi)erties,  and  from  the  long  lines  of 
bright-colored  clothing  soon  seen  drying  ujion  the 
adjacent  stumps  and  branches,  while  their  owners 
were  gambolling  like  dolphins  in  the  pools,  the  en- 
vious cooks  and  other  camp  attaches  dubbed  it  the 
Laundry,  with  a  variety  of  prefixes,  of  which  that 
which  I  deemed  the  most  appropriate  adheres,  and 
hence  the  name  Queen's  Laundry  .... 

Thus  from  Prospect  Point  it  is  a  six-,  and  from  ^L^r- 
shnll's  Hotel  fcnir-mile  trip,  through  lovely  groves  and 
glades,  and  amid  unique  geyser  and  other  hot-sj)ring 
cones  to  visit  and,  by  a  bath-house  which  1  con- 
structed in  1881,  or  lioi)efully  a  better  one,  test  for 
themselves  the  velvety  feel  and  cleansing  properties 
of  these  waters. 


Miles. !  Miles. 


4 
8 
1 


6 


lo 

16 
'9 


GUI  DE-BOOK  OF   Tllli   PARK. 


-'SI 


los. 

i9 

)0 


A  ro^id  from  this  sprlnrr  tlimii^h  lovely  parks  and 
j^rovi's  I'ia  the  accessible  Twin  IJultes,  as  near  tiie 
2O0-reel  Fairy  Falls  as  the  i)o<^s  bdovv  it  will  allow, 
and  thence  to  the  Midway  (leyser  JJasin,  so  thai 
lonrists  niij^ht  ji[o  one  route  and  return  the  other  in  a 
visit  to  the  Upper  Geyser  i5asin,  is  one  of  the  routes 
]ilanned  and  blazed  out,  but  not  completed,  before 
my  leaving  the  Park. 

GEYSER   VALLEY   ROAD. 

DurinjT  the  summer  and  early  autumn  this  road  is 
usually,  lhouL,di  portions  of  it  not  always,  a  good  (.ne. 

It  will  be  remend)ered  thai  from  the  Headquarters  to 
I'rospcct  Point  is     ......         , 

Thence  to  old  Camp  Reunion,  near  the  butte  to  the 
left,  jhort       ........ 

It  was  here  that  a  portion  of  the  Ilayden  expedition 
of  1878,  under  Ganniit  and  Holmes,  and  some  of 
Wilson's  soon  after,  set  n*"o()t  by  the  hostile  Han- 
nocks  near  Henry's  Lake,  and  my  own  party,  after 
many  weeks  of  travelling  from  different  directions, 
first  ijiet  white  men,  and  rudely  fortified  a  camp  for 
concentration  while  variously  engaged  in  explora- 
tion, geological  research,  and  construction  of  our 
road  up  the  main  Fire-Hole  River. 

White  sinter  in  the  Lower  Geyser  Basin  to  a  laminated 
plateau  on  the  left,  where  are  several  interesting 
pools  and  geysers,  the  most  regular  and  best  known 
of  which  is  the  Fountain         ..... 

Plain  of  white  sinter,  or  geyserite,  a  creek  and  several 
rivulets  of  hf)t  water,  then  to  the  riglit  of  the  main 
road  is  the  rocky  ford  of  the  Fire-Hole  River,  just 
below  the  Excelsior  Geyser,  where  its  deluge  o{ 
seething  water,  cloud  of  scalding  steam,  or  shower  of 
hot  rocks  do  not  jirevent  its  use       .... 

On  page  58  of  my  report  of  1 88 1  is  a  sketcli  by  Hay- 
den,  in  1 87 1,  of  this  geyser  before  it  was  known  to 
be  one,  but  frequently  called  "  Hill's  Half-Acre," 
and  on  page  62  a  sketch  by  myself  in  1881,  after  one 
'.eason's  eruptions,  and  a  reliaide  narrative  of  all 
then  known  of  it,  from  wdiich  I  ])riefly  quote  in 
substance  that  its  first  known  eruption  somewhat  re- 
tarded the  return  of  our  wagon  in  1878,  its  constantly 
increasing  agitation  and  discharge  of  hot  water 
until  its  commencement  of  eruptions  in  February, 
18S1,  as  a  daily  geyser,  and  after  various  Kpasmodic 
changes  "  seems  to  be  settling  down  to  business  as 

22 


Miles. 


Milu. 


37 
-,8 


39 


41 


I 


254 


Clini'.-liOOk'  OF   THE   PARK. 


Miles  I  Miles. 


a  rotTiihir  two-  or  tlnrL'-Iioiir  iiitcrmiltciit  ycyser,  but 
so  inniu'iist'ly  cxcollinj,' any  oilier  iiiKiciil  or  modi'rii 
known  to  history  that  I  find  but  one  name  litlinj,', 
and  Irmkc  clirislcn  it  the  Kxcelsior  until  scientists, 
if  able,  shall  invent  one  more  appropriate. "  The 
crater  of  this  vt)lcanii;  {geyser  has  been  immensely 
increased,  the  timl)er  alon^  the  river  for  some  dis- 
tance below  it  killeil,  the  ford  and  the  camp  oppo- 
site rendered  unsafe,  and  the  cloud-capped  pillar  of 
vapor  arisinj^  theretVom,  even  when  not  in  eruption, 
become  so  j^reat  and  peculiar  as  to  have  been  a  clear- 
cut  and  umnistakable  landmaik  from  nearly  every 
mountain-peak  in  all  my  explorations  of  the  entire 
Sierra  Shoshone,  and  portions  of  the  Yellowstone, 
Madison,  and  Rocky  Mtnintain  Ran_Ljcs  duriiiij;  icSSl. 
There  is  a  j^reat  scalIo|)-bordered  pool  or  lakelet  of 
deep-blue  hot  water  on  a  self-formed  plateau  just 
al)ove,  and  other.--  about  tlie  Excelsior,  the  steaming, 
foaminj^  hot-water  outlets  of  which  are  bordered  by 
brioluly  tinted,  jiearly  formations  tot)  delicately  beau- 
tiful for  pencil  to  i)aint  or  pen  portray. 

The  main  road  to  the  end  of  the  river,  and  that  across 
the  Geyser  plateau,  unite  after  the  latter  has,  by  a 
rapid  rocky  ford,  crossed  the  river  and  passed 
through  a  group  of  interesting  ancient  pools  and 
spasmodic  salses     .......        I  42 

The  road  thence  winds  along  the  low  foot-hills,  sandy 
terraces,  and  marshymeadows  of  the  Firc-IIole  River 
to  a  'ocky  ford  between  the  Fan  and  Riverside  Gey- 
sers, and  thence,  as  shown  upon  the  map  of  the  Upper 
Geyser  Basin,  to  Old  Faithful,  the  most  reliable  of 
all  known  geysers,  at  the  head  of  the  basin,  which 
our  wagon,  the  first  that  ever  made  a  track  up  the 
main  Fire-IIoIe  Valley,  reached  on  tiie  29th  day  of 
August,  1878 5  47 

As  this  map  shows  the  relative  location  and  the  table 
of  g-^sers, — the  character  of  the  eruptions  of  the 
most  prominent  of  them, — I  will  here  only  insert  an 
iliustiation  of  the  Uee-Hive  Geyser  in  erujition, 
and  cpiote  pages  20  and  21  of  my  report  of  1880  as 
descriptive  of  the  usual  phenomena  of  geysers. 

SPOUTING  OR  INTKRMrrTENT  GEYSERS. 

Without  attempting  to  decide  a  mooted  question  among  savants  as 
to  the  true  origin  of  these  prominent  wonders  of  the  Park,  I  venture 
to  state  that  succcsive  years  of  careful  observation  tend  toward  the 


as 
lire 
Lhe 


1- 


^L^SB- 


256 


GUIDE- nook'   OF    'I HE    EARh'. 


tlieory  that,  like  jnilsntiiij;  geysers,  salse.>i,  ruinerolcs,  and  most  of 
iIk'  other  kinds  of  liot  springs,  they  are  primarily  escape-vents  for  the 
earth's  pent-up  internal  (ires.  In  these  vents  the  chemitnl  action  of 
escaping  gas  and  liiL;h-prcssine  steam  produced  by  contact  of  this 
escaping  gas-heal  with  the  i)crnK'ating  surface-water,  hy  dissolving 
llie  wail-rock  increases  the  heat  and  enlarges  the  uriticc  of  these 
small,  tortuous,  and  otherwise  cooling  fissure-vents. 

Slow,  l)ul  sure  and  constant,  change  attends  them  all,  and  many, 
though  probably  not  all  of  them,  at  the  proper  stage  become  true  in- 
termittent spouting  geysers.  This  can  occur  only  when  the  orifice  is 
so  nicely  adjusted  in  height,  size,  and  form  to  the  power  of  the  es- 
caping steam  and  gas  in  the  self-formed  chand)er  beneath,  that  the 
})ressure  of  accumulating  water  for  a  time  nearly  or  quite  prevents 
its  escape  except  through  sympathetic  fumea)lcs  or  natural  safety- 
valves.  13ut  the  constantly-increasing  force  fiom  beneath  ultimately 
overpowers  the  pressure  of  the  water,  when,  after  more  or  less  sub- 
terranean rumbling,  earth  trembling,  and  sundry  kinds  of  bubbling, 
gurgling,  and  splulteri-'ig,  the  aqueous  monster  seems  fairly  aroused, 
and  then  occurs  the  grand  eruption.  This  is  usually  through  one, 
but  occasionally  through  several  circular  or  oblong  vents,  cones,  or 
craters,  with  diverse  kinds  of  throttlings  and  pulsations  in  the  differ- 
ent geysers,  each  having  its  own  peculiarities  in  color  and  size  and 
in  the  shape  of  the  orifices,  as  also  in  the  height,  power,  and  direc- 
tion of  the  column  or  colunuis  of  water  and  the  length  of  the  periods 
of  eruption  and  of  repose ;  and  even  these,  as  above  stated,  are 
doubtless  slowly  changing. 

While  the  foregoing  theory  seemingly  accounts  for  the  usual  mani- 
festations of  geyser  eruptions,  still  the  rending  of  huge  geyser  cones 
and  the  hurling  of  tons  of  rock,  as  have  occurred  at  the  Giant  and 
New  Crater  Geysers  and  elsewhere,  seem  to  indicate  ai:  occasional 
outburst  of  some  greater  power.  Explosions  of  superheated  steam 
or  of  gas,  misplacement  of  the  safety-valve  upon  escape-vents  of  in- 
ternal fires,  infernal  regions,  or  other  places  of  pent-up  jiower  rre 
occasionally  suggested  by  phenomena  otherwise  inexplicable. 

To  the  Upper,  Lower,  aiul  Midway  Geyser  Basins  upon  the  Fire- 
Ilole  Rivers,  and  others  less  important  u[)on  the  shores  of  the  Yel- 
lowstone, Heart,  and  Shoshone  Lakes,  early  discovered  l)y  others, 
my  own  explorations  liave  added  the  Monument,  the  Norris,  and  the 
Paint-Pool  Basins  upon  the  Gibbon  or  its  branches,  the  Safely- Valve 


't^- 


•'^. 


,,,;,^^^--^;;;-;---H:ri:v 


.',C -r '-.  irrWeSs 


BEE-HIVK   GKYSER. 


■lism 


2.;8 


GUIDE'liOOK  OF  THE   PAKK. 


ill  llic  Grand  Canon  of  the  Yellowstone,  and  several  others,  less  im- 
portant, in  other  portions  of  the  TarU,  which  is  now  so  well  explored 
that  there  seems  little  prohahilily  of  additional  Imsins  of  importance 
heing  hereafter  discovered.  SliU,  as  my  own  exi)lorations  have 
maiidy  been  made  in  connection  with  the  evei-iir^ent  duties  of  ex- 
ploring or  opening  roads  or  trail  routes,  and  the  scienlitic  explorers 
of  the  Park  have  labored  under  many  and  grave  disadvantages 
during  brief  periods  of  summer  only,  amid  hostile  Indians,  doubtless 
interesting  isolated  geysers,  or  perhaps  small  groups  of  them,  may  yet 
be  discovered.  In  fact,  so  little,  comparatively,  is  yet  known  of  the 
number,  size,  and  peculiarities  of  the  various  geysers  or  other  s|)rings 
of  these  regions  that  I  deem  it  one  of  the  most  inviting  fields  for 
further  scientific  investigation. 


ERUPTIONS  OF  SPOUTING  GEVSERS. 

Although,  as  above  shown,  each  class  of  geysers  ha?:  its  own 
peculiarities  and  ajiproximatcly  regular  periods  of  eruption,  yet  of 
Old  Faithful,  which  alone  of  all  the  large  geysers  has  no  fumerole, 
escape-vents,  or  sympathetic  geyser,  and  a  few  others  with  small 
ones  are  they  as  yet  known,  and  hence  until  a  more  careful  and  con- 
tinuous observance  of  them  I  view  any  table  of  erujitions  more  as 
an  indication  when  to  look  for,  rather  than  when  to  rely  upon  seeing 
a  full  eruption,  notably  from  those  having  long  jieriods  of  repose, 
sympathetic  geysers,  or  even  nature's  safety-valves, — fumenjles. 


GUIDE-JWOK  OF   THE   PARK. 


259 


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CUIDF.  BOOK  01'    THE   PARK, 


I-favin^  iho  bridle-path  to  Shoshono  aixl  ^^•lI()\vstolle 
Lakes  for  the  present,  we  letuiii  to  rinspcil  r«)int.  . 


ROAD  TO  THE  vr.riowsToxi:  lake  and 

lAI.l.S. 

This  passes  throii;,'h  the  old  war-path  fj;ap  jiist  south 
of  I'rospect  I'oiiit,  in  a  mile  pass  where  llie  tourist 
Cowan  and  family  were  captured  hy  the  Ne/-I'erecs 
in  1X77,  then  in  the  open  valley  of  the  East  l''ire- 
Ilole  Kiver,  and  over  several  j;ood  fords  to  KoeUy 
Fork,  frinj^cd  hy  willows,  hut  fuic  water,  grass,  fuel, 
and  eam]\  hut  no  lish      ...... 

Open  valley  pa>t  the  dangerous  trail  to  (lihhon  Mead- 
ows to  our  old  camp  tt)  the  left  on  Willow  Creek     . 

A  wild  mountain  route,  which  I  often  took  up  this 
stream,  and  lluouj^h  a  tind)ered  pass  alive  with  },Mme 
to  the  I'ire-liole  on  Alum  Creek,  beyond  the  moun- 
tain, before  grading'  the  road  up  its  face;  should  not 
be  attempted  by  any  but  a  j^'ood  mountaiiieer  or 
accompanied  by  a  reliable  j^ui<lc.  Cross  a  marsh, 
and  then  mean<ler,  steadily  risinj^f  to  the  loiij^  but 
excellent  ^ra<le  up  the  face  of  ihe  mountain,  and 
thence  alon^  an  ancient  dry  canon  outlet  of  Mary's 
Lake  to  its  iine  beach  and  clear  but  brackish  waters. 
No  fish  and  poor  cain|)   ...... 

In  the  open  pines  of  the  summit,  just  east  of  this  lake, 
is  the  remains  of  Chief  Jo>-eph's  corral  in  I.S77. 

Down  amidst  the  foamin^f  sprinj,'s,scratchinj^  fumeroles, 
and  scorching  brimstone-pits  of  the  Alum  Creek 
Eire-Hole  IJasin  we  descend  to  a  sheltered  grassy 
^•anip  on  a  small  branch  enterinjj;  fmm  the  right. 
Tepid  water,  but  ilne  fuel,  grass,  and  sheltered 
cam])      ......... 

The  oft-repeated  and  published  assertion  that  there 
are  no  fish  \\\>v>\\  this  route  between  tlie  Mammoth  Hot 
Springs  and  the  Yellowstone  River  is  somewhat  in- 
correct, as  they  are  sjiarsely  found  at  some  seasons 
of  the  year  in  the  lower  Gibbon  and  head  of  the 
Madison  ;  and  in  the  branch  above  this  camp  and 
others  east  of  it  there  are  .abundance  of  game  trout 
just  above  where  they  join  the  sour  hot  waters  of 
Alum  Creek,  which  would  pucker  a  persimmon  or 
scald  a  Nevada  lizard.  1  do  not  attempt  to  ac- 
count for  the  presence  (jf  these  trout  here,  or  their 
absence  in  waters  a|)])arently  more  favorable  for 
them  to  reach  or  inhabit,  as  I  am  not  advancing 


Milcn.!   Miltt 


10 


57 


62 
64 


08 


71 


GUIDE-BOOK  OF   THE   PARK'. 


t6i 


theories,  Ijiit  recording  facts  for  the  guidance  of 
oilicrs. 

From  this  camptlie  road  cros  es  cnclianting  pine-  \\\\<\ 
haisaiulioniiTLMl  parks,  winds  lliioii;;!!  a  iL-^iou  of 
crodctl  and  slid  eroding  hnlu-s,  and  tlicn  nialics 
nearly  a  direct  stretch  over  the  treeless  valley  t)f 
Sage  Creek  to  the  old  trail  near  the  Yellowstone 
River     ......... 

Here  the  road  forks,  and  taking  that  to  the  right,  we 
find  a  good  road  along  the  opi-n  terraces  of  the  en- 
chanting V'ellowstone,  desceml  a  steep  grade  near 
a  rocky  rapid,  and  among  the  nunuMous  lnd)l)ling, 
spluttering  pools  of  the  famous  Mud  Volcanoes  to 
the  open  valley  near  the  corral  of  Chief  Joseph.  To 
the  left  fine  camp    ....... 

A  little  farther  to  tlie  left,  on  the  eastern  ninrgin  of  the 
main  Mud  Volcano,  is  what  vandals  have  .<pared  of 
the  nulely-constructed  defences  of  this  chieftain's 
head(|uarlcrs  while  his  people  were  crossing  at  the 
best  lord  up(jn  the  entire  Yellowstone  River  below 
the  lake. 

This  is  at  an  island  half  a  tnile  above,  and  should 
not  be  attempted  without  a  guide  ;  but  trout,  large, 
hands(mie,  and  gamy,  without  number,  and,  from  tlie 
countless  long  white  worms  with  which  they  are  in- 
fested, wiUiout  value,  unless  to  persons  as  hungry  as 
we  have  sometimes  become,  when  they  prove  neither 
unpalatable  »)r  unwholesome. 

At  some  rude  stone  heaps  beyond  and  to  the  right  is 
the  camp  of  General  Miles  after  his  Clark's  fork 
defeat  of  the  Bannocks  in  187S,  and  a  winding  road 
tiuH)Ugh  lovely  groves  and  grassy  lawns,  and  skirt- 
ing the  truly  "  Peerless  Lovely  River,"  we  descend 
■n  slope  to  a  grove  and  matchless  camp  at  the  foot  of 
the  mystic  Yellowstone  Lake .         .         .         .         . 

From  this  camp  or  the  long  sand-spit  below  it  I  have 
often  crossed  the  river  with  a  raft,  swimming  the 
horses,  to  the  trail  to  Concretion  Cove,  which  starts 
out  from  the  beach  nearly  a  half-mile  up  and 
through  the  dense  timber  to  the  muddy  fords  of 
the  I'elican,  is  a  difficult  trail  to  follow. 

As  it  may  be  desirable  for  many  parties  to  divide  at 
the  Upper  Geyser  liasin,  and  while  one  outfit  pro- 
ceeds with  wagons  along  the  road  we  have  just 
traversed  to  the  end  of  it,  at  the  lovely  camp  and 
site  for  a  IkjIcI  and  steamboat-landing  at  Topjiin's 
I'oint,  just  above,  the  other,  with  saddle-  and  pack- 
train,  come  by  the  mountain  trail,  which  we  now  re- 


Mile*.     MilM. 


7S 


80 


86 


II 


i: 


!  ■ 


2O2 


C VIDE- HOOK  01'    Tilt  r.lKK. 


iiirii  to  traic.  It  will  be  rcuii'mlfiii'd  tli.it  from  the 
Maiiiiitotli  Hot  Siiriiij,'H  to  the  Uj»iK;r  lii-yscr  in  callcil 
in  litilcH 

Thin  i.s  nuich  less  ihitn  cHtimatcil  l>y  u>  when  constriKt- 
iiij^  or  l>y  othciH  in  tr.\vi'i>iii^'  it;  iu)il  alihoii;;li  tlu' 
ri'sulls  i\\\'  similiir  in  the  lulnnicler  nuMsuifnunls  of 
C!.i|itain  Slanton  imd  Lieutenant  Steever,  uiuler  the 
oniiTs  of  ( H-iKT.il  ShiTKlan,  in  1.S71,  lliroiij^liout  the 
I'aiU,  still,  as  luinj;  the  only  senililanee  ol  lueasure- 
nients  ever  tn:\(le  of  our  r»)ails,  I  adopt  them,  not  as 
positively,  lail  as  ap|ii  osiniately  eorrect. 

I'Voin  Old  l-'aitldul  we  take  the  hriillepatli  through  a 
tine  open  pine  fonst  aeross  a  roiky  ford  «)!  the  Kire- 
llole  River,  old  (leyser  llasin,  alon^f  the  steep  elilfs 
and  .some  hoj^'^'y  rivulets  upon  il,  to  the  ma;;nilieent 
cascades  which,  from  the  intrepid  twelveyear-old 
son  ol"  (jovernor  lloyt,  ol  Wyoming,  who  inilhnch- 
in;,dy  shared  in  all  the  hardships,  j)riv  .lions,  and 
danj^ers  of  the  explorations  of  his  f.i  r  and  the 
lanuntt'd  Colonel  M.ison  in  iSSi,  in  uhieli  they 
])a.ssed  them,  1  fell  juslilied  in  calling  Kipler's  Cas- 
cades. 'I'hey  possess  wild  romantic  interest,  well 
Worthy  of  a  trip  Iron)  the  Upper  (Jeyser  Uasin  hy 
those  who  return  from  there  ..... 

Thence  the  trail  winds  throuj^h  a  rolling  limbered 
rej;ion  and  a  valley  skirtinj.,'  the  nearly  vertical  walls 
of  the  continental  divide  to  a  sharp  turn  to  the  ri;;ht 
and  slight  ascent  in  a  narrow  rocky  canon  and  the 
boL'i.'V.   swaniD-bordered    summit    iiond    or    marsh, 


'K^y. 


Milci. 


within  2  miles,  cuts  directly  through  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  without  warning  reaches  the  brow 
of  the  cliff  overlooking  the  l)e  Lacy  fount. uiiheail 
of  that  branch  of  the  Snake  River  fork  of  the  Co- 
hnnbia  R.iver .         ....... 

This  Is  the  low,  direct,  ami  short  but  muddy  Norris 
I'ass,  thus  named  by  the  famous  scout  and  guide, 
Yellowstone  Kelly,  upon  its  discovery  by  myself, 
after  fruitless  search  by  himself  and  others  for  any 
pass  in  that  vicinity.  The  descent  of  400  or  500 
feet  is  steep,  even  for  pack-animals,  but  neither 
rocky  nor  boggy  to  the  l)e  Lacey  camp,  in  one  of 
the  most  seclmlcd  and  charming  parks  in  the  moun- 
tains      ......... 

A  lovely  side  ride  2  miles  to  the  deep  snow-fed  wafers 
of  the  Shoslione  Lake,  with  its  beach  glistening 
with  shiny  particles  of  obsidian,  but  no  fish,  nor  is 
there  any  in  Lewis  Lake,  4  miles  below;  while 
Heart  Lake,  7  miles  beyond,  and  many  other  adja- 


Mile*. 


47 


49 


55 


56 


CVIDE'IWOK  OF  THE   rANK. 


Im. 


2(il 


I't'nl  l.'ikcH  nnd  pdiuls,  sci'inin^jly  no  diflj'ii'nt  ».Tviiij» 
luij^jiriir  sliiii'S,  iiri'  litciilly  tillfl  w  itii  lluiu  nf  dil'- 
friiiit  v.niciii^.  Many  (if  llu-  )'>im};  |iiiuH  iiiinni^; 
thoNC  stDiiii -strewn  in  this  region  aio  ildMcil  or  liter- 
ally ciiviMX'il  uilli  iiniiiui'  f'Ulj^y  kimts,  wliii  h  wlifii 
cut  mill  pL'rIrtI  ill  siininitr  furni  (inr  walking  cane 
souvenirs.  The  Hiinuwhal  interesting,'  jjeyser-ltasins 
at  the  hrafi  of  this  lake  aie  too  n  nmte  ami  inacccH- 
sihio  to  justify  a  vi-.il  liy  any  hut  scii-ntisis. 

Hy  steep  winding,  hut   neidier  nniddy  nor  procipitous 
ascent  tlnnu^^h  a  pine  inr'-st  aj^ain  hrir)(,'s  us  tn  the 
Mnnmit   of   the    Kmky    Nhiuntains   at   'I'wo  Ocean  ! 
I'ond      .........  I 

From  (Hie  or  luo  idtky  puinls  ahove  the  tiniher  n  j 
chaniiin;^  view  may  he  had  oi'llie  Vellowsiutie  Lake,  I 
sleeping;  in  niatihless  heauty  at  i>»ir  feet,  with  the  | 
cverj4ieeii-clad  tenaied  siiles  and  siiowy  suniinils  i 
of  tlie  Sierra  SlK^hune  Kan^'e  tdWeriiij;  .miid  the 
clouds  heyond.  'ihe  deseenl  is  windinj,',  sleej),  ami 
h)j^-ol)strui.  ted  to  tlu'  lii)t-spriii^' camp  at  the  western 
end  (if  the  (ireat  'ihunih  of  Vellowstime  Lake        .  , 

I'ur  an  ex|)Ianati(iii  of  the  name  of  this  ami  other  por- 
tions of  this  famous  lake,  as  well  as  of  its  •  "culiar  | 
contour,  reference  is  made  to  imte  32;  an.  I    for  a  ! 
hrief  statement  as  to  the  catching;  and  hioilin;^  of  the 
hirj^c,  wormy  trout  alony  this  gcyseritc  hcach,  see 
note  36. 

This  hot-spring'  l)each  is  the  point  from  which  t<i  make 
the  side  trip  to  M"iint  Siieridan  aiicl  Heart  Lake 
U]ioii  the  I'acilic  draiiui;;e,  through  dense  and  often 
tangled  or  fallen  i)ines  and  parks,  hut  without  a 
_veslij,'e  of  a  iiKiuiilaiii  on  the  coiilineiital  divide, 
which  is  here  the  levellest  stretch  of  land  in  the 
region,  and  one  of  the  least  elevated. 

Distance  to  Mount  Sheridan  (unless  ihal  dashiii;^r  oflicer 
opened  a  route  last  summer)  anywhere  from  10  to  20 
miles;  time,  2  days;  outlit,  tstrooi i/iiinry, — a  full 
supply  of  lou^h  clothings  and  sfdiic/i  fortitude  to  pre- 
vent wear  ami  tear  of  llesh,  and  also  of  conscience, 
for  imprecations  at  the  pines,  the  packers,  the  saddle- 
and  pack-animals,  and  ahove  all  the  person  who  ad- 
vised makinj^  this  side  trij).  A  renewal  of  this  outlit 
will  he  necessary  ft>r  those  rclurniii}^'  rvV?  the  Upper 
Yellowstone,  Tw()-(\ean  I'ass,  and  Wind  River 
route,  that  of  the  Stinking-Water,  or  even  the  eastern 
shore  of  the  Yellowstone  Lake  to  its  foot. 

From  the  li shim,'- camp  our  i)ridle-path  or  trail  traverses 
a  lire-hole  h.isin,  cro.sses  a  hii;h  hlutl,  and  reaches  a 


Mllv».  '  Mllcx. 


yA   S9'4 


C2>^ 


' 


^ 


364 


cr/nK-nooK  o/'  rm:  vark. 


liot  crtH'k  ninl  poor  onmp  in  :i  forest  f do  ilcnsc  for 
safi'ty  ill  |)ii  ki'liii^;  lior^-i"*        .  .         .         .         . 

Uoii;{li  I'litilc  lliiiiii^'li  annoying  falloii  tiiiil>er  5  niili'H, 
>liai|i  tiim  I  (  ilu-  Itft,  aiid  limn  a  IimM  riil^r,.  (In-  lii^i 
(iiiil  l)v.si  vii'W  ol  tlif  arch  ol  llic  Naliiial  IJii<I;,'l'  i>^ 
had  \\\  \\  ili*<laiu!c  ol  fully  a  iiiiU'  Morlluvcstcrly,  which 
Ave  riMcli  l>y  wiiKliii;,'  to  the  left  over  u  warni-sprinj; 
iicck  .iiiil  |>(»-.>il)lc  camp. 

Thoii^^h  not  one  of  llic  Icailinj^  points  of  attraction,  it 
is  ihi;  Iii'nI  near  il,  and  a  miIisi  iniial,  naimil  roadway 
over  a  Miiall  stream,  ovi-r  which  a  ^'rc.il  ^,'ainc  trad 
passed,  and  I  shot  a  line  ^mI/zIv  in  amhiisli  ainoiij^r 
the  fallen  tiinlier  at  its  wcNtern  alailim  nl  at  my  lir-l 
visit,  wliiih  was  ilttiie;  hiil  the  accurate  deseriplion 
of  the  hriilj^e  to  he  found  on  paj^es  22  and  2j  ol  my 
rcpiirl  of  iSSo  is  too  lon^  for  copyin;»  here 

Koinantic  tide  throii;,di  proves  ami  parks  to  the  foot  ol 
the  lake  ........ 

DcMriplioii  of  the  trails  beyond  the  lake  and  river  will 
he  deferred. 

KOAl)  TO   THE  YKM.OW.STONE   F.M.LS. 

Retrace  our  route  to  the  cro-.Mn^  of  Sa;^'e  ("reek  (at  the 
lake.  S(.) '        . 

Deep  valley  and  rounded,  f^rassy  liilU  to  the  Sulphur 
Mountain,  which  is  uni<|uely  interotinj^,  hut  soon 
seen,  and  from  sulphur  luines  and  poison  water  a 
jioor  camp      ........ 

Fine  road  over  a  treeless  plain  to  Allen  Creek    . 

The  hroad,  hare  estuiry  appearance  of  the  borders  of 

this  stream  is  due  to  the  sour  mineral  properties  of 

its  waters  below,  where  they  are  hot,  similar  to  which 

is  Sour  Creek,  which  enters  the  Yellowstone  nearly 

opposite. 

Crossim;  a  treeless  terrace,  a  lon;^  dugway  in  the  side 
of  a  mountain,  and  skirtinj;  the  broad,  placid  waters 
of  the  river  to  the  cove  near  the  rai)iils,  one-fourth 


MilM. 

6, 


)f  a  mile  above  the  U|>per  Falls 


This  is  the  present  end  of  the  road  from  this  direclion, 
there  bein^  a  ;,'a])  of  16  miles  by  one  bricUe-palli 
and  iS  by  the  other  to  Tower  I'alls,  where  the  road 
from  the  Mammoth  Hot  Spriu'^s  n<nv  terminates.  Ii 
is  at  this  camp  that,  breast-hi_L(h  upon  a  pine-tn-e 
about  20  iiuhes  in  diameter,  are  still  lej^ible  upon 
the  bark,  "J.  ().  K.,  Auj^.  29,  iSk),"  which  is  tlie 
oldest  record  by  white  man  of  which  I  have  any 
knowdetlLje    in   the   I'ark.      Upon   the  banks  of  the 


Milei. 


5 


/  .1 


9^ 


97 


100 


ar/Di:  nooh'  of  the  r.iNK, 


265 


creek,  with  n  Itnail  niDiilh,  ahntit  a  milr  ahuvc  tlii>, 
arc  tliu  u|(|  l)i.ii)i|s  ul  llie'  >l;ui^lili'ir<|  tuiiri^t\  I  aiii|i 
firi'    ii'fcni'd   Im  ill  llu-  piuin  "  i.oncly   (ileii"  nii<l 
linti'  tlutrtu. 

'I'lu'  liiuad,  iramiuii  livrr  litTc  rapiilly  cunvcrj^i's,  a^ 
it-*  riiirtiit  iiH'ic  i«.i's,  til  ilu'  iiaiiii\vi.'>>t  jinirl  ii|)(iii 
llic  river  IilIow  the  laki',  uliiili  is  mmiiI  70  k-ct, 
wluTi"  till'  aliiilimiils  of  ii  hriil^^o  an*  r<>iniiniui'ii 
over  llic  fiianiiii^'  lajiiiU  at  tlu'  lu'ail  of  llio  r|i|"  •" 
l''.ilU.  'riitxi',  ill  a  li.ill-iascailr  Ii-ap  of  aliuiii  tin- 
sanu!  as  tlu:  Kalis  df  Ni.i^ara,  reai  li  the  aj^aiii  limad 
clianiicl,  so  shallow  ami  uli'liii^'  ill  it,  at  tlic  innpir 
sta^c  of  watti  at  least,  Vi-llowstoiu'  Kelly  and  my 
sell  have  fonled  ii  ii|ioii  liorsehaek  jii^t  ahove  the 
inoiilh  of  the  ( 'as(  ade  '.'lecU.      (See  iiolt-  71.) 

NVithin  the  distaiue  of  almiit  one  mile  from  the  eamp, 
ill  the  cove  al)ove  the  main  rapids,  we  skirt  them  io 
ihe  l/p|)cr  I'iills  upon  the  liridj^e,  as  ilhistraltd, 
ncross  the  Cascade  Creek  (sec  note  Si)  and  falls, 
and  reach  the  eamp  at  tin-  head  of  the  trail  (not 
hridle  path)  to  the  (Ireal  I'alls  of  the  Yellowstone   . 

Descent  to  the  head  of  the  falls  5(xi  feet,  where  on  the 
pole-railed  slulf  amid  the  nii«-t  the  nearly  400  feet 
of  clear  leaj),  the  narrow  thread  of  foaming  water, 
and  the  hrij^hllytinled  walls  of  mij^hly  eroded 
cnAon  are  he^ide,  heneath,  or  before  you,  and  to 
the  ri},dit,  opposite,  and  above,  at  my  favorite  camp, 
when  able  to  cross  the  river  above  to  reach  ii,  is  far 
the  fniest  location  for  a  future  hotel  to  be  found  in 
the  vicinity. 

From  the  camp  above  the  (Ireat  I'alls  one  bridle-path 
follows  the  ver^'c  of  the  (Jrand  Canon  to  the  ri{;hl, 
another  through  the  open  sa<;e-brush  plateau  to 
s(»me  line  camps  within  a  mile  on  Spring  Creek  and 
to  the  left. 

THE  MOUNT  WASIIl^URN  r.RlDLK-rATII. 

Open,  grassy  ridj^'e,  and  descent  lo  a  lar^'c  and  lino 
camp  on  <  Cascade  Creek  aliovc  its  canon.  (See  notes 
68  and  69.) 

OjK'n,  occasionally  bojjgy  valley,  then  skirt  Dun 
Raven's  Peak  to  the  'eft,  and  the  main  peak  of 
Mount  Washburn  upon  the  rij^ht,  to  a  j^rassy  plateau, 
from  which  an  easv  and  safe  ascent  of  kss  than  one 
mile  brinj^s  us  to  the  oval  summit    .         .         .  . 

Lonjr  j^rassy  slope  to  forks  of  the  trails 

Rolling  open  liills  i  mile,  then  continuous  descent  to 
camp  at  Tower  Creek  above  the  falls       .         , 

M 


Mile 


Milut. 


7 
4 


101 


9 
IS 


2j 


266 


GUIDEBOOK  OF   THE   PARK. 


*( 


I 


ORANI)  CANON  ISRIDLK-I'ATII. 

Skirting  the  hriiik  of  flic  Oraiid  Cnfion  fnun  tlio  cainp 
al)t)vc  tlie  lie, 1(1  of  tilt;  (ircat  Falls  of  the  Vcllaw- 
stone  to  Lookout  I'oinl  ...... 

This  rudely  railed  rocky  cliff  directly  fronting;  the 
(lieat  Tails,  and  loc^  feel  nearly  vertically  above  the 
foaming  rapids  in  the  (!rand  Canon  below  them,  is 
far  the  best  ])oint  for  an  unobstructed  view  of  them 
all,  than  wdiich  few  places  earthly  combine  as  nuicli 
of  the  uni(iiie,  the  beautiful,  and  the  grand. 

The  two  notches  vibservable  in  the  brink  of  tiic  Great 
Fall  were  first  noticed  in  the  spring  of  i88i,  when 
a  heavy  slide  of  rocks  at  the  cleft  of  Spring  Creek, 
]iast  the  Red  I'innacles,  where  the  famous  artist 
I'ierstadl  took  one  of  his  sketches  of  the  Great  I'alls 
tlie  same  season,  also  destroyed  the  route  of  descent 
to  the  foot  of  the  falls.    (See  note  70.) 

Upon  the  opposite  side  of  tlie  (liand  Canon,  a  mile  or 
so  below  1-ookout  Point,  is  the  shelf  of  rock  from 
which  the  great  artist  Moran  made  one  of  the 
sketches  for  his  lanious  painting  of  the  Falls  of  the 
Yellowstone,  now  in  tln'  ujiiier  anteroom  to  the 
Senate  cham])cr  in  Washington.  15elow  this  point, 
upon  that  side  (jf  the  canon  is  the  Sliding  Cascade, 
1400  feet  high,  nearly  opposite  to  which  the  bridle- 
path leaves  the  canon  for  the  meadow  camp,  which 
is  good,  but  pour  water  ..... 

PAINTED    CLIFF   BRIDLF-PATII. 

From  the  lower  end   of  th.e  meadow  to  the  right,  I 

•  mile  thi",)Ugli  open  pine  forests,  anolhcr  steep  descent 
to  the  small  but  beautiful  Safety-Valve  Ueyser,  and 
anocher  constant  descent  through  an  ancient  tire- 
hole  brings  us  to  good  trout  and  trout-fisliing  at  the 
iini(|uely  beautiful  Painted  Cliffs,  nearly  2000  ver- 
tical feet  below  our  meadow  camp,  and  the  only 
place  where  a  trail  reaches  the  river  between  the 
Great  Falls  of  the  Yellowstone  and  those  of  Tower 
Creek. 

Open,  sometimes  boggy,  meadow,  pine  forest,  Fire- 
Ilole  liasin,  with  a  black-mud  geyser  on  the  left,  to 
the  charming  secluded  camp  of  Glade  Creek  . 

Long  and,  in  portions,  rocky  ascent  to  the  summit  of 
Rowland's  I'ass  of  the  upper  sjiur  of  Mount  Wash- 
burn, for  a  description  of  which,  and  its  discovery, 
reference  is  made  to  the  iiuic  to  "  In  Cabin,  Camp, 
or  Council.  '     C^ce  note  87.)  .... 


Miles.  '  Miles, 


10; 


105 


108 


2>2l     "0>^ 


i      '\. 


GUIDE-BOOK  OF  THE   PARK. 


267 


[ilvs. 


o; 


05 


08 


\o% 


From  the  hnishy  siininiit  of  this  pass  there  is  a  fine 
lookout  a  lew  roils  to  the  ri^'lit,  and  within  lialf  a 
mile  l)eyon(l  anotiier,  commanding'  a  fair  view  of  ihc 
yawnini;  (Irand  Canon  above  and  helow,  as  widl  as 
those  uf  tlie  15road  and  Oranj^e  Creeks  l^eycjiid  it. 

To  the  left  the  route  (not  well  o])ened)  of  a  good 
hridle-path  to  the  snowy  suinniit  of  this  s])ur  of 
Mount  Washburn  ami  a  magnificent  view  of  all  the 
surroundini:;  regions,  second  only  to  that  of  the 
highest  jteak,  which  can  be  reached  during  much  of 
the  summer  by  a  romantic  riile  or  walk  of  less  than  | 
2  miles  along  the  crest  of  liiis  s|nir. 

The  descoit  from  {-lowland's  Pass  is  continuous,  hut 
not  steen,  along  the  grassy  slope  of  another  sjiur  to 
the  c^ear  icy  waters,  luxuriant  grass,  and  abundant 
fuel  of  the  Ihiest  groups  of  charming  sheltered 
camps  in  the  mountains,  at  the  crossings  of  the  snow- 
fed  rivulet-feeders  of  Anteloi)e  Creek,  nearly  west 
from  tlie  ancient  ruin  of  unknown  builders  men- 
tioned in  my  reports,  Init  now  burned 

Romantic  unclulating  valley,  brilliant  with  flowers,  to 
the  forks  of  the  bridle-paths  ..... 

TOWER   CREEK   AND   FALLS. 

Good  camp  on  Antelope  Creek  to  the  right;  be^t  place 
for  a  view  of  the  wonderful  Tower  Falls  a  little  down 
the  creek;  thence  a  steep  descent  to  its  continence 
with  the  Yellowstone,  l)eneath  vertical  walls  many 
liundreds  of  feet  in  height,  ornamented  and  capped 
l)y  the  long  hori/iiilal  lines  of  remarkably  beautiful 
basaltic  columns. 

The  old  Indian  ford  of  the  Yellowstone,  ju-^t  above,  is 
dangerous,  but  the  naui.eous  'nis  from  the  adjacent 
springs  is  not,  nor  does  it  affect  the  waters  of  these 
streams,  in  each  of  which,  near  their  coniluence,  are 
trout  and  trout-fishing  unsurpassed  in  the  mountains. 
A  steep,  continuous  ascent  of  500  feet  from  the 
bridge  above  the  falls  brings  us  to  the  summit  of 
the  cliff  and  wagon-road  from  the  Mammoth  Hot 
Sjirings. 

From  this  peculiar  point  of  attraction  the  road  passes 
through  oi>en  groves  of  huge  fir-trees,  resembling 
eanlrrn  hemlocks,  some  steep  descents  and  canons 
to  llot-Spnng  Creek,  and  camp  just  above  the 
famous  Baronet's  iJridge  at  the  forks  of  the  Yellow- 
stone     ......... 

Less  than  2  miles  nearly  west  from  this  camp  is  a 


Miles.  I  Miles. 


113 
116 

118 


121 


268 


GUIDE-BOOK  OF   THE  PARK. 


■ll 


small  lake,  and  alonpf  Ihc  steep  cliffs  to  the  li^'ht,  as 
well  as  on  the  slu])e  of  a  side  branch  i)elo\v  it  to  the 
north,  are  the  stmnps.  from  1  to  15  or  20  feet  hi^di,  of 
fo>>.ili/ed  ancient  Ireessliil  erect, and  many  fallen, and 
a  tine  place  10  secure  beautiful  fragments,  as  well  as 
chalcedony,  a^Mte,  amethyst,  and  other  formations 
found  in  them  or  strewn  alonij  the  cliff  or  creek. 

Ilot-Sprinj^  Creek,  ])ast  forks  of  Miners'  trail,  to  fme 
camp  in  Pleasant  Valley  ..... 

Much  steep  j^rade,  but  several  }^ood  camps,  to  the 
summit  of  the  Devil's  Cut,  or  Dry  Canon 

Upon  the  bald  ]iatches  of  the  erodini,^  liasaltic  terraces 
to  the  left  of  this  canon  an-  ci>untless  uni<[ue  j^eodes 
filled  with  va-ious  beautifully-tinted  crystals  and 
concretions;  j; -assy  slopes  and  terraces  to  the  dark 
cliffs  of  the  nxxh-rn  lava-lteds  to  the  left,  aiid  a 
yawning  canor  to  th'' rii^hl ;   fair  camp    . 

Grassy  pass  and  plains  to  bridge  over  lilack-tail  Deer 
Creek     ......... 

Grassy  valley  and  terraces  to  the  Upper  Falls  of  the 
luist  Cardiner  River,  40  feet  hi_t;h  .... 

IJeneath  the  ;Iark  foIia<,'e  of  the  trees  at  the  eastern  end 
of  the  rustic  bridj^e  at  the  brink  of  these  falls  may 
still  be  seen  some  of  the  bouj^hs  of  my  rude  couch, 
made  as  related  in  nole  75. 

PYom  this  place  the  ascent  is  easy  from  across  the 
brid<j;e  to  a  wild  rei;ion  almiLj  the  towering  cliffs  of 
the  Gardiners,  and  to  the  ii,i,dit  those  of  Mount  Ev- 
arts.  From  the  brink  of  the  cliffs  north  of  these 
falls,  and  nearly  in  the  sjiray  of  another,  where  one 
can  pass  between  the  sheet  of  water  and  wall-rock, 
there  is  a  charminjr  view  of  the  lonj^  ijrade  of  our 
road  adown  the  canon  of  the  East  Gardmer,  our 
heachjuarter  l)uddinij;s,  the  mist-clouds  and  white 
terraces  of  the  Manunoth  Hot  Sprinj^s,  clear-cut 
upon  the  green  slopes  of  the  Sepulchre  Mountain, 
which  we  reach  at  . 

MINERS'  BRTDLE-RATII  FROM  THE  FORKS 
OF  THE  YEELOWSrONE  TO  THE  SODA 
EUTTE    MEDICINAL   SPRINGS. 

Baronet's  Bridge  is  upon  the  site  of  the  first  one  ever 
built  upon  any  portion  of  the  Yellowstone,  and  the 
scene  of  many  thrilling  scenes,  s(jme  of  which  are 
referred  to  in  the  ])oem  and  attached  note  of  "Oh, 
is  there  in  this  World  so  drear?" 

Open  route  and  valley  past  a  dark  lava  butte  on  the 


Miles.'  Miles. 


123 

125 


129 

131 
134 


138 


^•'^•rj 


CI  JDK.  no  OK   OF    HIE    PARK. 


2C9 


files. 


23 


J9 

14 


right,  two  lakes  filled  with  water  fowl  on  the  left  to 
Ainithyst  Creek 

I'Voni  tliis  ereek  there  arc  several  steep  hut  not  difficult 
routes  of  ascent  to  the  jfrassy  dome  south,  which  is 
the  front  and  lower  one  of  the  famous  S]ieciinen,  or 
Amethyst  Mountain,  from  the  fossili/ed  truid<s  and 
stumps  of  ancient  forests  upon  which,  the  first,  the 
j,'reatest  numher  and  among-  ilie  finest  sjieciniens  of 
fossil  wood,  chalcedony,  onyx,  opal,  and  beautifully- 
tinted  a-jates,  amethysts,  an(i  other  crystals  cv(  r  fouinl 
in  any  re<,Mon  have  hcen  obtained,  and  comparative!) 
{i:.\\,  obtainable  w  itlKuit  heavy  work  with  pick  and 
fuse,  remain.  But  those  with  curiosity,  nervj,  and 
a  good  horse  can  follow  near  the  '  er^e  of  the  clills 
about  a  mile,  and  then  descend,  ziK'za_^ginjr  their 
horse  as  I  have  done,  to  our  old  camp  in  the  aspens, 
])eneath  in  the  valley  to  the  left,  or  go  the  whole  2 
miles  along  the  cliffs,  descen<ling  by  the  timbered 
canon  beyond.  They  will  find  descent  a  vertical 
^  half-mile  at  cither  of  these  places  is  not  boy's  play. 

The  valley  route  is  smooth  and  open,  affording  a  fine 
view  at  a  half  mile's  distance  of  the  countless' fossils, 
slumjw,  trunks  supported  by  the  vertical  walls  or 
the  prostrate  logs  of  a  succession  of  ancient  forests, 
the  roots  of  one  often  over  the  tops  of  that  beneath 
to  a  vertical  hei^^ht  of  nearly  a  half-mile;  to  ihe  east 
fork  of  the  Yellowstone  ..... 

Here  the  bridle-jiath  forks,  and  following  that  to  the 
left  in  the  open  valley  and  across  the  creek,  we  reach 
the  famous  ancient  geyser  cone  and  picsent  medici- 
nal springs  of  Soda  JUitte. 

This  is  the  legendary  s])ring  of  the  surrounding  Indian 
nations  for  the  cure  of  the  saddle-galls  of  horse,  or 
arrow  or  other  wounds  of  warriors,  and  besides 
]>roperties  similar  to  those  of  the  Arkansas  Hot 
Springs,  will  soon  fallen  man  or  animal  using  it. 
To  this  add  its  location  in  a  sheltered  vallev  amid 
and  in  ])lain  \icw  of  the  fossil  forests  and  basaltic 
snow-capped  cliffs  of  the  Specimen,  Longfellow, 
Norris,  (Irand  Tower,  and  other  surrounding  moun- 
tains, it  cannot  (properly  managed)  fail  of  soon  be- 
coming one  of  llie  foremost  sunnner  resorts  of  the 
continent. 


CLARIv'S  FORK  MINERS'  TRAIL. 

From  the  Soda  Butte  this  bridle-path  passes  the  famous 
Trout  Lake    ........ 


iMil 


cs. 


Miles. 


10 


12 


15 


17 


■RIB 


270 


GUIDEBOOK  OF   THE  VARK. 


Round  Prairie 

Line  (if  Montana        ....... 

Cook  City,  in  th<j  centre  of  a  wonilerful  j^roup  f)f  f^old 
and  silver  lodes,  not  ilevelojied,  but  ol  <;re;vt  prom- 
ise ......... 

Tlience  there  is  a  bridle-patli,  -,'ia  the  base  of  the  In- 
dex Peak  and  Heart  Mountain,  to  the  Stiiikinj^-Water 
Valleys,  one  fork  of  it  to  the  Piij-horn  Valley  and 
Fort  Custer,  and  the  left-hand  one,  near  Clark's 
Fork  Clafion,  to  the  jilains,  antl  theiiee  to  Coulson, 
upon  the  Nortliern  Paeific  Railroad,  whence  I  learn 
there  is  a  pur[)ose  of  running'  a  line  of  travel,  but  I 
doul)t  it  beinij  properly  opened  this  season,  and  will 
ever  be  a  wild,  elevated,  romantic  route  for  trail, 
roail,  or  railroatl. 


Miles. 

3 

4 


Miles. 
20 

24 


27 


i 


G01U,IN-LAND  IJRIDPE-PATII. 

Half  a  mile  southeasterly  from  the  crossinf^  of  the 
east  fork,  on  the  Miners'  route,  is  the  Camekeeper's 
Cabin,  built  by  Harry  Yount,  tlie  famous  scout  anil 
guide  of  Wyomin^r^  while  my  assistant,  as  game- 
keeper of  the  Park,  and  where  he  spent  the  winter 
of  1880  and  1S81. 

From  this  cabin  the  bridle-patii  traverses  the  open, 
grassy  slope  of  Mount  Norris  to  the  ford  of  Cache 
Creek, — thus  named  by  a  party  of  forty  o<ld  gold- 
seeking  pilgrims  who  were  there  set  afoot  by  the 
Indians,  and  cacheing, — /.<'.,  burying  what  they  could 
subse(juently  find  an(l  not  carry  off, — by  the  aid  of  a 
pair  of  donkeys  who  would  not  go  with  the  Indians, 
made  their  return  afoot  in  1864       .... 

Through  groves  and  glades  up  the  east  side  of  the 
east  fork  to  Calfee's  Creek      ..... 

East  Fork  Valley,  and  over  a  steep  bluff  to  the  left,  on 
to  Miller's  Creek    ....... 

North  or  left-hanil  bluffs  of  Miller's  Creek  to  its 
forks      ......... 

Zigzag  ascent  of  1500  feet,  and  then  through  open 
])arks  and  dense  thickets  among  the  snow-fields  to 
our  old  cainp  near  the  group  of  deserted  Indian 
teepees  and  lodges  at  the  foot  of  Parker's  Peak 

Down  a  yawning  canon  to  the  Goblins  fm  the  left 

Ascent  of  the  Hood's  Mountain  to  our  monument  of 
1S80 

From  the  illustration  (see  page  43)  of  a  portion  of 
these  Goblins,  those  in  my  report  of  1880,  and  de- 
scription of  this  region  when  first  explored  in  l8So 


4 
2 
8 


5 
2 


3 

7 

9 

17 


22 

24 

25 


GUIDE-BOOK  OF  THE   VAKK. 


271 


es, 

\ 


and  18S1  (see  note  87),  some  conception  can  he 
foimcd  of  them  ;  but  only  actu.il  vicv  can  ever  fully 
impress  ijic  niiiul  with  the  weird,  unearthly  char- 
acter of  the  dykes,  canons,  and  golilins  of  one  of 
the  wildest  regions  which  I  have  ever  seen  in  all 
my  mountain  wandenn<,'s,  althou«,di  tlie  peaks  and 
canons  are  on  a  much  ^'rander  scale  aluny  the  Sierra 
Siioshone  Ran^'e  to  the  south. 

VVc'were  kept  in  our  old  camp  amid  the  balsams  during 
the  4th  anil  5th  <lays  of  September,  iSSl,  by  a 
hovvlinj,'  storm,  which  broke  away,  so  that  C.  M. 
Stephens  and  myself  waded  throu>,di  deep  snow  to 
the  si;mmit  of  the  (Joblin  Mountain,  and  spent  the 
entire  day  of  the  6th  shiverinj^  beside  our  instru- 
ments in  fof^s  from  meltinj;  snow  in  the  canons, 
throu<,di  shiitiuLj  rifts,  in  which  we  {^ot  what  bear- 
inj^s  were  possible  under  the  circumstances. 

Renewal  of  the  storm  in  all  Us  fury  drove  us  to  the 
Soda  Butte  Valley  (below  it)  on  the  7th  Avithout 
makin_<r  our  proposed  exploration  of  less  than  20 
miles  throuj^h  a  terribly  broken  re<;ion  to  the  Fort 
Custer  trail,  whence,  from  near  Crandle  C'rci'k,  I 
think  a  route  may  be  found  to  the  Goblin  Mountain, 
Two  miles  above  our  trail,  on  Cache  Creek,  are 
some  interesti)ij,'hot  medicinal  springs,  and  countless 
line  trout  in  the  waters  still  discolored  by  ihem. 

FOSSIL  FOREST  BRIDLE-PATH. 

From  Gamekeeper's  Cabin  to  the  foot  of  Amethyst 
Mountain,  nearly  opposite  a  fire-hole  in  the  foot  of 
Mount  Norris         ....... 

Summit  of  Amethyst  Mountain  .... 

Orange  ( 'reek  and  camp     ...... 

Sulphur  Hills     ........ 

Forks  of  Pelican  Creek      ...... 

Indian  Pond  and  Concretion  Cove,  on  Yellowstone 
Lake  (camp.)         ....... 

Lower  ford  of  Pelican  Creek      ..... 

Yellowstone  Lake,  half  a  miK-  above  the  *"oot 

These  distances — estimates  only — and  the  route  from 
fallen  timber  difficult  without  a  guide. 

NEZ-PERCE  BRIDLE-PA  I'll. 

Indian  Pond  to  Pelican  Creek  Valley 

Upi">er  ford  of  Pelican  Creek     ..... 

Nez  Perce  ford  of  the  Yellowstone     .... 


Miles. '  Miles. 


3 

3 
6 

5 

II 

4 

15 

8 

23 

5 

28 

3 

31 

1 

J 

.34 

12 


272 


CUIDE-liCOK  01'    THE  PARK. 


Good  route  with  a  k"ocI  guide,  and  difiicult  in  many 
places  without  one. 


I  Miles. 


Miles. 


CONCKKTION  COVE  AND  INDIAN  POND. 

One  of  tlie  loveliest  camps  in  tlie  Rocky  Mountains, 
and  where  the  unique  concretions  iij^ured  and  de- 
scribed in  my  reports,  ami  referred  to  in  my  poem 
and  notes  of  the  **  Mystic  Lake  of  Wonder-Land," 
are  plentifully  found. 

There  are  no  really  ^ood  fords,  and  few  of  any  kind 
on  the  lower  I'elicaii,  hut  these  birds  and  other 
water-fowl,  as  well  as  wormy  trout,  are  plentiful  be- 
yond conception. 


Rf  ;l 


I'ASSAMARIA,   OR    STINK ING-WATKR 
BRIDLE -PATH. 

Concretion  Cove  to  Turhid  Lake         .... 
Jones's  Pass  of  the  Sierra  .Shoshone  Range 
Conllu'.'nce  of  the  Passamaria  and  Stinking-Water 
A   rough   route,  eleviited   pass,   and   thence  a  fearful 
cafion  above  the  forks  of  the  Stinking- Water. 


7 
12 


3 
10 

22 


ir  . 


lies. 


CUlDE-noOk'  OF  THE  PARK. 


273 


RI•:CAPITU^ATI()N    OF    DISTANCES,    ROADS,    lUUDLE- 
TATIIS,  AND   TUAn,S   WIl'IIIN   TIIK    I'AKK. 


[O 
!2 


ROADS. 

Roiui  to  the  Geyser-Dasins 

Mainmotli  Hot  Springs  to  Terrace  Pass 

Sw.m  Lake  Camp         .... 

Miildlc  (ianlinor  Camp 

\yillow  Park,  good  camp     . 

C'olil  Springs        .... 

<)lisi(li.in  Cliffs     ....'. 

Cjrccn  C'reek,  poison  water  . 

Lake  of"  the  Wouds      .  .         .         ." 

Norris  Valley,  gootl  camps 

Norris  Fork,  good  camps    . 

Norris  (Jtyscr  liasiii    .... 

(>cy,er  Creek,  good  c, imp  . 

Foot  Hridge  to  iMoniimcnt  (ieysers     . 

Falls  of  the  (Jibbi.n      .... 

Canon  Creek,  hdf-milc  below  camp    . 

Kartliqu.iLf  ClifUs         .         .         .         . 

Lookout  'I'errace 

Prospect  I'oint,  near  tljc  forks  of  the  Fire-Ho! 
Lower  Ceyser  P)asin    .... 
F.xcel.sit)r  (Jeyser,  Midway  '':;r.i;,  Cnmp 
(JId  Faithful,  Upper  Ceyser  Hasin  Camp 
Ketnrn  to  Prospect  Point    . 


cs 


Camp 


Road  to  Iknry's  Lake,  I'irsinia  City,  and  Dillon,  on  the  Utah 
Northern  Railroad. 

Prospect  Point  to  Marshall's  Hotel 

Lookout  Cliff-i 

Riverside,  camp  and  trout !         !         '.        ! 

Henry's  Lake 

Henry's  Fork,  route  to  the  Utah  Northern  R.  R.  at  Camas,  65      '. 

Virginia  City 

Dillon,  coach  daily  to  railroad    .,....,, 


Old  Madison  CaHon  Road. 

Forks  of  Rnads 

Moutli  of  Ciibhon,  caniT)  and  trout     . 
Foot  of  ALidison  Canoi,  camp   aid  trout  . 
Riverside,  camp  and  I.  out 


Queen's  Laxtndry  Road. 


To  the  Bath-Rooms 
Reiurn 


Road  to  the  Ycllowxtone  Lake  and  Falls 

From  Mammoth  Hot  Springs  via  the  Upper  Basin 

Rocky  Fork  Camp 

Willow  Camp       ....... 

^Liry's  Lake,  brackish  w.itcr      .... 

Aliini  Creek  Camp,  and  trout  near     . 

S;ii;e  Creek,  forks  of  road,  and  wormy  trout;  no  wood 

Mud  Geysers,  good  camp,  wurmy  trout     . 


Miles. 

'Miles. 

3 

3 

5 

II 

12 

'3 

»4 

«5 

>7 

2U 

2( 

••'4 

'-'5 

1  / 

/2 

'■^yJi 

2^2 

Si 

a 

34 

3 

37 

2 

39 

2 

6 

4» 
47 

10 

57 

8 

4 
22 

60 


5 
2 

4 
3 
7 
2 


I 

9 
»3 

35 


95 
i6o 


4 

9 

J5 

18 


57 
63 
64 

68 

71 

73 
80 


274 


GUIDE-BOOK  or   THE   r.lKK, 


t™5 


Mi 


Foot  of  Yellowstone  Lake 

Hitiiii.  tc  SiiKi:  (.."rfck 

Siil|iliiir  Miiuntiiiii 

M^iih  of  Aliini  I'rctk  Catiip,  wormy  trout 
Cove  above  the  Upper  !•  alls  L'aiiip,  wormy  trout 


Btidlc-PiUh  to  Towtr  Falls. 

Crystal  Falls,  short  lialf-niiic      .... 
(Ircat  I'alls,  short  lialt-milL-  .... 

I,.i(ikoiit  Point,  canifi  half-niilc  north 
Mc.kIow  C'aini),  passable  water  .... 
I'aintcd  ClifT  I'rall  and  return,  (^        .        ,         , 

Cilaile  t'rtek,  fine  camp 

Kiiwlaturs  I'ass  (asucnd  Moiuit  Washburn  2  miles) 
Antelope  Creek,  splendid  camp  . 

Forks  of  Itriilli- Paths 

Tower  Creek,  good  camp,  fine  trout  .        . 


Matnnioth  Hot  Spying  Road. 

Hot  Spring  Creek,  or  Forks  of  the  Yellowstone,  good  ramp  and 

trout 

Pleasant  Valley,  good  camp        .... 

Dry  Canon  

I,ava-I!<:ils,  several  camps 

Pilacklail  I  )eer  Creek  and  camp 

I'pper  I'alls  of  the  Kasl  (ianliner 

Cascades  of  the  l''.ast  (Jardiucr,  half-mile  above 

Mammoth  Hot  Springs        ..... 


Middle  Gardiner  Bridle-Path. 

Mammoth  Hot  Springs  to  the  Falls  of  the  Middle  Gardiner 

Sheep- I'.ater  Clilfs 

Koad  to  the  Geysers 


Shoshone  Lake  Bridle- Path, 

Kepler's  Cascades 

Korris  Pass  of  the  Rocky  Mountains 

De  Lacy's  Creek  and  Camp,  Pacific  waters 

I'wo-Ocean  Pond,  summit  of  the  Rocky  Mountains 

Tluimb  of  the  Yellowstone  Lake,  camp     . 

Hot  Spriiij^  Creek,  poor  camp    ..... 

Natural  Pridgc,  near  camps        ..... 

Foot  of  Yellowstone  Lake,  camp        .... 

Mount  IFashhurn  Bridie-Path. 

Great  Falls  of  the  Yellowstone  to  Cascade  Creek  Camp 
Spur  of  Mmini  Washburn,  which  ascend  1  mile 

Forks  of  Hriiile-Paths 

Tower  Falls  Camp 

Painted  CHJf  Bridie-Path . 

Meadow  Camp  to  head  of  Grand  Cation    . 
Safety-\'alve  Pulsating  Geyser   ..... 
Yellowstone  River  at  Painted  Cliffs   .... 


MIlcR.'Mileii. 
6         86 
8         94  , 

'H      97 
3         loo 


3 


6 
I 

■ili 
3 

6 

5 


1CH)J4 

101 

loj 

J  08 

110^ 

«<3 
116 

118 


121 
123 

129 
Vi' 
«34 

.38 


3 
5 
6 


2 

8 

.t-A 

22 
28 
33 


3 

9 
13 

»5 


iW/ /)/■:./{ 00 A-  OF   1111'.    IWNK, 

Paint- Vois  BtUle-rath. 

Month  of  r.i-ysor  Creek  to  the  l'alnt-rot»  . 
(ii.yM?r  ( idryc       .... 
I''.;irili(|ii.ikf  ( iorjjc        ....,' 
Kdi  ky  I'ork  l'ii)>siltn  .         .  ,         .         '         ' 

Miiry  »  Lake  KoatI,  near  Willow  Cicck     '.        \ 

Miners'  BriJli--l\uh. 

IVironot's  Tlridne,  af  Fcirks  of  tlie  Yellowstone  River 
Aiiiftliyst  C'rcck,  camp  ;iiiil  trout        ... 
(rossiiiK,  Mast  Fork  of  VMlowsionc  Kivt-r",  c.imp  an'd  trout 
Nula  IJiitto,  iMcdicinal  Spriiijjs,  camp  and  trout 

I  rout  Lake 

Koiuul  Prairie  ...!.'['" 
North  lini:  of  Wyoming  ..!'"' 
Clarke's  Forks  I'ass  C.imp,  near  northeast  corner  of  the  Park 

I/oodon,  or  Goblin  Mountain  Bt  i,ile-l\ith. 

n.nniekecper's  Cahin,  on  the  boiia  liutte,  to  Hot  Sulphur  Springs 

rordol  Ca(  hi- I  reck »       ^ 

Alum  Springs  and  return     ,...'. 
C'alfix-  Creek         ... 
Miller's  Creek      ....',*."        i 
Mountain  Terrace        ...!!' 

Old  Camp 

(lolijin  I.aliyrinilis        ..'.'. 
Monument  on  Hoodoo  or  Goblin  Alouiitaiii        ! 


Fossil  Forest  Briillc-PutJi. 
Summit  of  Amethyst  Motuitain 

(lamekecpcr's  Cabin  to  foot  of  mountain  '. 

Orange  Creek ... 

Sulphur  Hills       .        .        ,        , 

Forks  of  Pelican  Creek        .        ',        ".         '.'.'' 
Indian  F'ond  at  Concntion  (^ne  of  the  Yt'llowstonc'Lake 
Lower  Ford  of  IVIican  Creek      .... 
Foot  of  the  Yellowstone  Lake    .        .  ' 


Passamaria,  or  Stinking-JI'atcr  Bridle-Path. 
Concretion  Cove  to  Turbid  Lake        .... 

Jones's  Pass  of  the  Sierra  Shoshone  Ran^e 

C.M.fluence  of  the  Jones  and  Stinking-Water  Fork  of"the  Passamari:! 
Kiver 

Nez-Perce  Bridlc-PatJi. 

Indian  Pond  to  Pelican  Valley 

Ft)rd  of  Pelican  Creek  .         .         .         *. 

Mcz-Perce  Ford  of  the  Yellowstone   .        .* 


I  Mile.,  Mile*. 


3 
5 
4 
8 

5 
3 
3 


7 

12 


I 

a 

4 

6 

II 


10 
11 
«5 
'7 

24 
a; 


a 

I 

3 

4 

7 

4 

1 1 

2 

«;» 

U 

31 

5 

26 

2 

28 

I 

29 

3 

6 
II 
»S 
23 

23 

3» 
34 


3 

10 


3 
6 

13 


THE    END. 


